


Harry Potter and the Furry Little Problem

by EliteDelieght, punkrockbadger



Series: rewrite potter [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Rewrite, Hufflepuff Neville, Other, The Potters Live, depictions of ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliteDelieght/pseuds/EliteDelieght, https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockbadger/pseuds/punkrockbadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After defeating Tom Riddle's diary and the Basilisk, Harry is ready for a year where absolutely nothing goes wrong. It seems he'll never have a moment of peace, however, when an escapee from Azkaban causes tensions and secrets to grow in his family. With James and Lily upset and a mysterious new threat at Hogwarts, will Harry and his best friends Ron and Hermione be able to survive the year?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aunt Marge Blows Up

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the third installment of our Harry Potter rewrite! Sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

Harry Potter was, by all accounts, a very strange boy.

Not that most boys aren’t strange at thirteen, because all of them are, and the ones who say they weren’t are liars. But Harry Potter was especially strange, seeing as he was a wizard. Being a wizard wouldn’t be a problem at all if he weren’t on his way to meet his notoriously magic fearing aunt, uncle and cousin, along with his uncle’s deplorable sister, who his uncle insisted that he and his siblings call Aunt Marge.

Luckily, he only had to see his mother’s sister and her family once a year, and his uncle’s sister once every four or five years, and if he stayed on his best behavior tonight, he would be able to have his friends over tomorrow for his birthday. That sounded quite fun to Harry, who was quite sick of his siblings after far too many weeks spent in their company. All he needed to do to earn an afternoon of his friends was behave well over dinner tonight, and not take the bait when Aunt Marge inevitably said something absolutely horrid.

Harry could hear his father rehearsing conversation topics under his breath, and he knew that he should do the same in efforts to keep Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge at bay, but he couldn’t care less. Over the last six months alone, he’d nearly lost one of his friends to a racist mass murderer, fought a snake and mouthed off to one of the most powerful wizards in Britain. He could handle two old white people.

Lily entered the room, her face as grim as if she were about to fight off Voldemort himself. If anyone were to ask, she would readily reply that she'd prefer that to spending time in the company of her sister’s family. She wore a plain sweater and jeans, but her hair had been done up neatly, like all the old pictures from when she had attended Hogwarts. Most of the time she left it down, these days.

“Alright kids,” she started, “Marge is going to be at your aunt’s house, so you know what that means. Absolutely no talk of magic. Less than usual, anyways. Anne, Sarah, you aren’t allowed to bring bags with you after what happened last year.”

Sarah mumbled something unbearably rude in Tamil under her breath, earning a glare from her father.

“Do we have to?” Harry asked, crossing his arms. “I mean, we decide against it right now and then no one would have to deal with any of them this year!”

“Family is family, Harry.” James ruffled his son’s hair. “We’ve got to respect them if we want them to even think about respecting us.”

“Don’t worry, Harry!” Drew grinned proudly. “If anything goes wrong, I can help fix it! You know why?”

“Here we go again.” Anne rolled her eyes, her lower lip jutting out in her trademark pout.

“Because I’m Harry’s favorite in a dangerous situation. That’s why.” He continued as though Anne hadn’t spoken.

“Mum, can we give him to Ripper?” Sarah asked, looking quite excited at the thought. “Might chew Drew into bits so we don’t have to listen to that whole speech again.”

“Hey, we’re not giving Drew to Ripper.” Harry threw an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “If anyone is going to Ripper, it’s Dudley.”

“We can give them both to Ripper.” Anne suggested, smiling brightly.

“True.” Sarah nodded. “If anyone could get along with Dudley, it would be Drew.”

“Hey! I would not!” Drew protested loudly. “If anything, Matt would!”

“Hey…” Matt frowned at his brother.

“Matt gets along with everyone.” Anne pointed out.

“Plus, if anyone would get along with Dudley, it would be the two of you.” Harry pointed out. “You know, you’re mean, he’s mean, you like to fight, he likes to fight. Perfect match, the three of you.”

“Excuse me?” Anne’s voice went up approximately two octaves, and Lily sighed.

“Appa, if I’m dead, do I have to go?” Harry turned to James.

“You’re halfway there. Might as well finish the job properly.” James shook his head, looking quite exasperated. Anne and Harry's fights were legendary for many reasons, and not one of them was good.

“Might as well let them get it out of their systems before we leave, right?” Lily glanced uncertainly at her husband as Anne’s face turned nearly the same shade of red as her hair.

“I don’t know about that, Harry.” Sarah shrugged. “You see, Dudley likes to surround himself with people on or below his level. By that standard, you’d fit in just fine.”

“Why are you always on my case?” Harry groaned, looking quite ready to lay down and pitch a fit.

“Why do you make me do this?” Sarah asked. “There are a million other things that I’d much rather be doing, but instead, I’ve got to fight with you.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen this before.” James muttered, frowning.

“Give you three guesses where.” Lily covered her smile with the palm of her hand. “Look to your right if you need a hint.”

James looked to his left. “I don’t see anything. A wall?”

“Other right, dear.”

Sarah trudged over to her mother, burying her face in Lily’s arm. “How are we going to survive this?”

Lily smoothed Sarah’s hair down with a shrug. “How we survive it every year.” She chuckled. “At least you didn’t have to live with your aunt for eleven years.”

“Must have been one of those capital E Experiences.” Sarah winced. “I’d ask how Uncle Vernon does it, but he’s worse.”

“Foul company attracts foul company.” Matt piped up.

“How do you always have stuff like that?” Harry looked to Matt. “Do you just store it in your head, or something? How much have you got stored up in there?”

“More than you, I’d say.” Anne sniffed. Matt shrugged in response.

“I dunno. A lot, maybe.” He offered.

“They’re so mean to me, Mattie.” Harry pulled a face. “Us boys, we’ve got to stick together, right?”

“Can’t we all get along…?” Matt asked.

“Probably not, but we’ve got to present a unified front.” James nodded. “Got to keep Vernon and Petunia jealous, considering their kid can’t even manage to tie his shoes properly.”

“All of us can tie our shoes.” Sarah looked to her siblings for confirmation. “That’s a hundred percent success rate.”

“One of the only ones we’ve got.” James sighed.

“Hundred percent success rate when facing Voldemort? Family-wise.” Matt mused hesitantly.

“Technically less, since Appa’s failed a couple times.” Sarah mused. “Surprisingly, Harry hasn’t.”

“I don’t know whether to be happy that you’re surprised or mad that you thought you would be.” Harry pulled a face.

“Is it double counting if we count the three times we didn’t kill him for me and your mum?” James scratched the back of his head. “Or do we only count those once? Because we were both there, so it should be twice.”

“We’re going to be late, so save this conversation for later.” Lily glanced at her watch.

“Right, right. Everyone keep their big kid pants on. If Marge says anything, don’t fight.” James nodded. “Right, Evans, lead the way.”

“Would you expect anything less, Potter?” She tossed him a smile before stepping towards the fireplace. She tossed a handful of the floo powder in and disappeared into the green flames without a moment of hesitation.

“Alright, kids. I’m taking up the rear so none of you escape.” James said, earning a groan from Harry. “Matt, you first.”

Matt hurried into the fire, followed closely by Anne and Drew.

Sarah grabbed a handful of the powder soon after Drew had gone through, clearly stating her destination before disappearing into the green flames.

“You need me to hold your hand, or are you good?” James nudged Harry forward. “Can you say Wisteria Walk alright or are you ending up in Knockturn Alley again?”

“Appa, for the last time, I ended up there because I said diagonally. That’s not funny.” Harry grumbled, stomping over to the grate and angrily grabbing the Floo powder. “See? I can do it.” He tossed the handful into the flames. “Wisteria Walk.”

The flames roared as they shot up to envelop Harry. The sensation of spinning overtook him, and he watched as empty fireplaces whizzed by at a dizzying speed. The trip only lasted a few seconds, but he grew nauseous all the same.

Harry tumbled out onto the living room carpet of Mrs. Figg’s house, immediately struck by the smell of cabbage. “Oh. Wow.”

Matt reached out to help him to his feet.

“Thanks.” Harry gratefully took Matt’s hand, barely able to pull himself up without pulling his brother down as well. “Much better.”

James appeared not long after, casually stepping through the Floo instead of falling over as his son had. “Tough luck?”

“Manattha vangarel, Appa.” Harry huffed, running over to stand by Lily’s side. (You’re embarrassing me, Dad!)

“Am not.” James grinned.

“It's our job to embarrass you.” Lily murmured as she reached out to fix her son’s rumpled clothes.

“No one’s dead. Yet.” James shrugged. “Alright, Marge has probably decided we’re late because doing something Satanic or something, so no one disrupt that impression.”

“Can we tell Aunt Petunia about our weird pagan customs again?” Sarah grinned. “I think she’s had an easy year. She doesn’t need too many of those.”

“Might grow complacent.” Harry chuckled. “We all know that only leads to trouble.”

“Trouble like dungbombs in her closet?” Lily raised an eyebrow- an expression her children knew to fear.

“I have no idea.” Harry cowered. “What’s trouble? Who knows? We should get moving!”

“Good boy.” Lily turned towards the door, pausing to thank Mrs. Figg with a bright smile.

Harry hurried out the door behind his family into the night, feeling more and more nervous as they got closer and closer to Number Four. He had a bad feeling about tonight, for some reason. He should have asked Ron if today was a good day to jump straight into hell-- Ron’s bad feelings usually meant that something catastrophic was about to happen. Well, either that or Ron’s life was a series of really, really strange coincidences.

James was the first to go up to the door, knocking thrice. Even he looked nervous. “Alright, everyone. Best behavior.”

The door swung open a moment later, and Petunia’s face appeared. Her already pinched expression soured further. She didn’t bother offering a smile. “You’re late.” She sniffed, but opened the door to allow the family inside.

“Sorry, Petunia, we just wanted to make sure we were all presentable for Marge.” Lily lied smoothly.

James reached over as Lily spoke, trying to smooth down Harry’s hair, which was, despite his best efforts, sticking up in about ten thousand directions. His efforts were of no use, as it sprang back up as soon as James pulled his hand away.

Harry kept his mouth shut, not wanting to get himself into more trouble, and tried his best to look like he was very much enjoying the idea of spending time with the Dursleys.

Petunia looked over the family with narrowed eyes, but her lips didn’t thin out in irritation anymore than they already were. Matt had shrunk back to hide behind James, by that point, but no one was surprised. “Well… We just about started dinner without you. Not that you’d appreciate saying grace, anyways.” She gave James a pointed look. “We’re in the dining room."

“Excellent.” James nodded, reaching out to grab Matt’s hand. “Wouldn’t want to hold them up any longer.” As had become routine, the kids rushed to have their shoes off and in a neat line by the door, James absentmindedly throwing his somewhere in the vicinity afterward, but no one wanted to be the first to go in.

Everyone glanced at each other hesitantly, before Anne squared her shoulders and tossed her hair back. “I’m braver than you.” She whispered to Drew before going through the door first. He made a squawk of protest and hurried after her, as though to disprove her statement.

“Come on, Matt.” James pulled Matt along behind him. “Might as well die together, right?”

Harry looked to Sarah and his mother, then the doorway, after his father and youngest brother had gone through, and decided he’d take his chances with the Dursleys. Sarah had unfortunately inherited their mum’s tendency toward winning fights so overwhelmingly that the other person was often left crying, and he didn’t even want to think what would happen if both of them insulted him at once.

The dining room was brightly lit. Pasty green curtains had been pulled shut over the glass patio doors, hiding the dark backyard from view. The carpet was scratchy beneath Harry’s sock clad feet, and the straight-back wooden chairs at the table suddenly seemed to resemble torture devices. His rotund uncle and cousin were seated near the end of the table, and Marge was on the right of her brother.

She was a large woman, her face nearly the same shade of purplish-red as Vernon’s. The buttons on her blazer strained with the effort to stay closed. Beneath her chair sat a fat little pitbull who growled as Harry entered the room. Matt was pale beneath his dark skin, and looked ready to bolt or faint. Whichever came first.

“H--hey there, Ripper!” Harry tried to be as enthusiastic as possible, given the situation. Ripper had pissed all over his pant leg, the last time they’d met each other, and Harry distinctly remembered being chased up a tree. Needless to say, none of his memories with Ripper were pleasant.

“Oh. You’re back.” Marge looked at Harry as if she were observing a particularly dull raccoon, fresh from a trash can. “Don’t your parents teach you to greet people properly?”

“Hello, Aunt Marge.” The Potter children chorused, all of them looking varying degrees of done with this entire evening.

Lily casually stepped between Matt and the angry dog as she pasted a smile on her face.

“Dudders didn’t sound hardly as put upon when he said hello, did he, Petunia?” Aunt Marge ruffled Dudley’s hair. “Such a good boy, my neffypoo.”

“Of course not.” Petunia said, shooting a smug smile at her sister. “My Duddey-kins has manners.”

"And I'm an elephant." James murmured. 

“Of course, the children will only have manners if the parents set an example.” Marge said, sounding far more prideful than she had any right to be. “And if their examples are constantly acting ungrateful, then what else will the children do?”

James nodded slowly, trying to look as appreciative of Marge’s wisdom as possible. “Of course. Definitely.”

“You know, I’ve always thought it terribly impolite to talk about someone as if they aren’t in the room.” Lily said cheerfully, her smile never wavering. There was steel in her eyes.

“Not one of these children has improved since the last time I saw them, Vernon.” Marge pronounced, ignoring what Lily had said in favor of glaring at each of the Potter children in turn. Even Sarah shrank back, finding some excuse to stay close to her mother’s side. “Especially the oldest one, what’s his name?”

“Harry.” Harry said, barely holding back a few choice words. He’d done his best to keep his mouth shut, and yet, Aunt Marge had found something wrong with his behavior. Again.

“You’re constantly slouching.” She said, shaking her head. “I had hoped school would teach you something, but it looks like they’re as lost as your parents are. Where is it you go?"

“A boarding school. In Scotland.” Harry looked to his parents for confirmation. “For gifted kids.”

“Not nearly as great as the school Dudley is attending!” Petunia’s voice rose to what was almost a shriek as she attempted to keep any mention of Hogwarts from slipping out.

Harry smirked, looking to his cousin, who had started eating his dinner rather than join the conversation.

“Don’t you smirk at my nephew, boy! Whatever they have in the way of discipline at this school surely isn’t enough, if you can still take that kind of attitude with your betters.” Marge huffed, looking to Lily. “You ought to write to the professors, you know. That’s solved many a case like this.”

“Oh, I’ve talked to the professors _plenty_.” Lily grit out from behind her fake smile. “Haven’t we, James?”

“Loads.” James spoke up. “All the time.”

“Good.” Marge said. “And the next one, she’s starting soon?” She looked almost disgusted as she looked over at Sarah. One could spend hours searching for any resemblance to the Evans family at all in Sarah and find nothing. Much like her older brother, she had inherited their father’s black hair, which fell in waves about her face, and his copper colored skin, but where Harry had her mother’s green eyes, Sarah’s eyes were so dark that they looked black from certain angles. That, coupled with her tall, thin build, left her looking very much like a miniature version of her father. “Speak up, girl!”

“Not for another two years, actually.” Sarah said, sounding quite nervous. The last time she’d talked to Marge, she’d had to join Matt in his hiding place afterward.

“Good. Your mother’ll have it a little easier with a few of you out of the way.” Marge leaned back in her chair, which looked like it could break at a second’s notice. “Might have time to attend to the rest.”

Lily’s smile wavered slightly at the insult to her parenting skills, but she kept her temper in check. “Oh, Sarah loves learning- she’s so smart. I know you’ll do well in school.” She reached out to put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“Someone’s got to redeem the family name, right?” James patted her head. “She’s been reading Harry’s old books all year, actually.”

“Hey, I’m smart too.” Harry spoke up, clearly intending for it to be a joke, and Marge frowned.

“See, this is the kind of attitude that they--”

“Heard the news, Marge?” Vernon spoke up, obviously trying to prevent a fight. “An escaped prisoner, and he’s a murderer to boot! I’ve always thought that the only way to deal with those kinds was hanging.”

“Armed and dangerous, they said.” Marge shook her head. “That’s what they get for not killing him straight off. I don’t remember his name, though. Something funny.”

“Pettigrew!” Vernon said, looking quite proud of himself for coming up with the right answer. “Murdered twelve people, and tried for three more!” He seemed to realize who his company was at that moment, and that the three people Pettigrew had tried to kill were standing in the room. “That’s what happens when substandard police work is done. People like this get out, and it endangers the life of normal people like us.”

Lily had gone paler than normal, her faint freckles standing out from where they were spattered across her nose. She cast a frantic look at her husband, all semblance of cheer gone.

James looked equally worried, quickly counting all the children to make sure they were still there. “Do you know how long it’s been? Since they’ve had eyes on him?”

“Must be a week or so.” Vernon said. “They’re said to have had him in a high-security prison, but somehow, he just walked right out.”

“Maybe we should go.” Harry said, sounding quite worried. He had no idea who Pettigrew was, but someone who worried both of his parents this much did not sound like someone who he’d like to be around. “Get some fresh air.”

Marge took advantage of the lull in the conversation to take a drink from her rather large glass of brandy.

“Maybe you’re right, Harry.” Lily murmured, her hand instinctively reaching out to hook through one of James’ belt loops, as though checking to make sure he hadn’t disappeared.

“Let’s get going. Yup. Leaving now.” Harry nodded urgently.

“It’s awfully rude, you know, just showing up and leaving like this. Commitments should be respected.” Marge sniffed haughtily, shaking her head. “But then again, you can’t blame the child for how he’s turned out. If there’s something rotten on the inside, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

Harry, who had slowly been growing angrier and angrier throughout the night, suddenly found that he could handle it no longer. His parents were scared, and for a valid reason, and Aunt Marge seemed to be delighting in baiting them. He knew the routine well enough to know that once she got a reaction out of his father, she’d spend the rest of the night berating his father for existing, and his mother for marrying him. And the thought of another night like that was far too much.

“You see it all the time in dogs, Vernon. First rule of breeding. If there’s something wrong with the b--” Marge stared in amazement, losing her train of thought, as her thumb swelled up to the size of a rather stumpy carrot. “Vernon, what’s happening?” Her entire body seemed to swell larger and larger in pieces, until she began resembling a rather angry balloon. “Vernon! Fix this!” She yelled, as her chair finally broke under her weight, leaving her to float up to the ceiling.

Lily let out a rather spectacular stream of curses as she grabbed Harry and Drew’s hands, herding her kids towards the door. “James, get Matt!” Her shout was unneeded, however, as Ripper started barking and Matt sprinted after his mother with a cry of fear.

“Set her right!” Vernon screamed. “You set her right right now!”

“We’ll send someone!” James said, before grabbing Sarah, the last of his children to stay behind, by the hand and pulling her toward the door. “And don’t worry about Marge. Just keep her inside, maybe? That way she won’t float off? See you next year!"

Lily didn’t bother bidding her sister farewell. She concentrated on keeping every member of her family in sight as they spilled out onto the darkened streets. If Vernon was right and Peter had truly escaped Azkaban, it was only a matter of time before he tried to come after them.

“Appa?” Sarah asked, hanging on tightly to James’ hand as they hurriedly made their exit, pulling shoes back on and nearly running down the road to Wisteria Walk. “Who’s Peter Pettigrew? What’s going on?”

“Someone dangerous, kannamma. No need to worry.” James squeezed Sarah’s hand as they turned the corner onto Wisteria Walk. Sarah looked slightly put off by being called sweetheart, but nodded. “Adi, you want to run ahead? Let Mrs. Figg know we’ll be a little early?”

Drew’s nervous air turned downright terrified when he realized his father wasn’t referring to him by his English name. Something must be really wrong if it was affecting his parents this way. Without a word, he turned and sprinted down the sidewalk.

Harry clung to his mother, looking behind them as if someone would pop out of the bushes edging the street at a moment’s notice. Tom’s threats from a few weeks ago were still fresh in his mind, and if Pettigrew had broken out of Azkaban, it wasn’t even a question that he had likely been one of Tom’s men. And now, factoring in his parents’ reactions, he must have been close to them as well. He couldn’t remember his father having any good friends beyond his uncles, Mr. Weasley and the Patils, though.

He’d have to do some research-- there were more books than he could count in his father’s library, and at least one of them must have Pettigrew’s name in it, if he’d truly murdered twelve people like Uncle Vernon had said. Harry was pleased to notice, when he looked over to Sarah, that she looked similarly thoughtful. She’d be in the library the second they got home, and for once, he might actually join her.

Harry had no idea what Drew had told Mrs. Figg, but as they filed into her house, she looked about to be sick. James wordlessly went to the fireplace, picking up a handful of Floo powder. “I’ll go through first. Make sure it’s safe.”

“Like hell you are.” Lily snapped, her hand leaving Harry’s in order to grab her husband. “You aren’t going anywhere without me, Potter.”

"Should we call Remus, then?" James asked. "For the kids."

Lily stared at him seriously for a moment before nodding. “We’ll floo to their flat first.” She decided.

"Good." James nodded.

“What’s going on?” Anne suddenly demanded, her brown eyes wide with fear.

"You kids are going to be with your godfathers for a bit, and we're going to go make sure things are okay." James looked to Sarah. "If Remus is out of the room, you're in charge. Don't let Sirius do anything stupid."

"He skipped me!" Harry said, crossing his arms. "I'm the oldest! Why not me?"

“You did decide to kill a giant, evil snake all on your own.” Matt pointed out with a tiny frown. “You’re… kind of reckless.”

"And, not to mention, the last time they left you in charge, Uncle Sirius almost killed Matt." Sarah nodded. She had always been a little too protective of Matt, and that incident had only led to an even steeper increase in fights between her and Harry.

"You keep reminding him every time he forgets. It's almost like you've got it out for me." Harry grumbled.

“Well, it is Sarah.” Anne said.

“We can continue this discussion at your godfathers’ house.” Lily’s voice was firm. “We need to go now. We’ll be in touch, Miss Figg.”

Harry dutifully waved to Mrs. Figg. "Who let Uncle Sirius name the flat Padfoot's Pad anyway?"

“Your father.” Lily said dryly.

"Hey! It only happened because I wasn't there!" James pointed out. "So, technically, it wasn't my fault at all."

All the Potters went through the Floo one by one, everyone trying their bests to keep a straight face while loudly saying Padfoot's Pad, and ended up in a rather erratically decorated living room. There was an old and battered couch sitting in front of what appeared to be a coffee table. It was missing a leg, and had been propped up using stacks of newspaper. The table itself was littered with empty mugs, books, papers, and a chessboard with only half the pieces. The rest of the room, in contrast, was surprisingly tidy. A bookshelf stood against one wall, along with the door that lead to the kitchen. A hallway branched off to the left of the fireplace, with several open doorways.

Sirius poked his head out of one of the doors, a crooked grin already lighting his face up. “If it isn’t my favorite batch of Potters!” He trotted down the hall in order to pick Matt up and ruffle Sarah’s hair. His cheer faltered slightly as he took in the worried and frightened expressions surrounding him. “What’s up?”

"There's a mass murderer on the loose." Sarah said matter-of-factly. "Also, Aunt Marge visited."

"Not sure which one's worse." Harry grumbled.

"They've done a spectacular job of hushing it up, but apparently our collective furry little problem's gotten out of control." The stiff way James was holding himself practically radiated anger. "Got to check the house for rats. Could you and Remus watch the kids?"

“Furry problem? James, Remus isn’t due for another two days…” Sirius’ confused expression slowly morphed to one of understanding, and finally into fury. He set Matt back down as he continued speaking. “Sure. No problem. You don’t want any backup?”

Remus Lupin chose that moment to slowly make his way out into the living room, perhaps having heard his name. He looked quite haggard, the scars on his face standing out sharply from his skin, and understandably so, as the August full moon was in two days. Remus' status as a werewolf was hardly a secret within the family, and all the Potter children had cracked the pattern on their own eventually. Sarah rushed to his side the moment he'd finished greeting her parents, earning a pat on the head.

Harry snorted. Between Sarah's people skills and Uncle Remus' questionable babysitting credentials, it was of no surprise at all that they were each other's favorites.

“James and Lily want us to watch the kids. Seems there’s been an outbreak of vermin and they need to do some… rat hunting.” Sirius repeated James metaphor with a sour expression.

"Rat hunting." Remus repeated, looking quite pensive. "Take as long as you need, and I'd say not to come back with a body, but that might be the better option for all of us." He chuckled lamely, as if his statement could be based off as a joke if he tried hard enough.

Harry squirmed, getting the impression that Uncle Remus was indeed, serious, and very much so. He wasn't aware why, though, considering he was quite sure that werewolves did not eat rats. And, considering there was a murderer potentially after them, Harry had no idea why his parents were so deeply concerned with checking the house for rats. Couldn't that be done another time? When there was less danger of them all dying? He would never understand adults and their priorities.

After another few minutes of conversation and hurried goodbyes, Harry's parents disappeared into the fireplace, and Uncle Sirius' grin seemed to grow two sizes to make up for his friends' absence.

“Well, now that those party poopers are gone, how about we have dinner? Rem and I have got a ton of junk food to go around.” Sirius clapped his hands together.

“Who’s Peter?” Anne demanded. The initial shock and fear seemed to have worn off, as she stared stubbornly up at her uncle. “Why are Mum and Appa so scared?”

“Scared? Who’s scared? Certainly not your mum. Now your old man, he’s got plenty to be scared of. Like his wife.” Sirius’ smile suddenly looked as forced as Lily’s had at the Dursleys.

"No one you need to worry about, Anne." Remus said kindly. "The matter will be taken care of before you know it."

"Yeah, but that's not an answer." Harry said. "Why don't any of you want to tell us who this is?"

“... It’s complicated. A story too long to tell, and it isn’t really ours to tell.” Sirius sighed.

"So we're just supposed to buy into that and keep quiet?" Harry groaned, shaking his head. "See, the last time that strategy got played, I ended up in a dungeon with a basilisk, so you should probably let me in on it."

“Me too!” Drew insisted. “Harry says he wanted me in the dungeon with the snake too, so I should get to help!”

“I don’t want to help fight a snake. Or rats.” Matt whispered, his eyes wide. “No thank you.”

"Or, for once in your life, you could let the adults do their jobs and not cause a fuss." Sarah suggested, looking quite annoyed. "You wouldn't nearly die for the tenth time, and it would save the rest of us a lot of energy."

"No, yeah, you're right." Harry grumbled. "This Peter bloke's likely in with You-Know-Who, and Mum and Appa have just gone to fight him alone, so none of us should be worried at all!"

There was a beat of silence, and then Matt burst into tears. Anne shot her eldest brother a glare, her expression screaming ‘ _look what you did_ ’!

Sarah detached herself from Remus' side, shooting Harry a similar glare before pulling Matt into a tight hug. "Appa will punch his face right off and they'll be back before bedtime."

Matt continued crying as he clung to Sarah, and Sirius knelt down next to them. “Aw, c’mon, little man. How about we make some hot chocolate while we wait for your parents to get back?" He offered. “Sarah can help me make it. We all know I’m useless in the kitchen.”

"You nearly set the whole room on fire. You can be arrested for that." Sarah deadpanned, wiping Matt's eyes before leading him into the kitchen by his hand.

"Uncle Remus?" Harry began, once his youngest brother was out of the room. "He's not with You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I wish I knew the answer, Harry." Remus said, shaking his head. "I wish I knew."


	2. The Dementors of Azkaban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The creature took a deep, rattling breath, as if trying to suck in all the air in the compartment, and all the warmth in the world seemed to disappear in a split second. The cold pierced deep into Harry’s skin, and he felt his own breath freeze in his chest, as if he were turning to ice.

If going to King’s Cross was going to get more and more stressful with every passing year, Harry was quite ready to quit Hogwarts entirely. Between his parents and Uncle Remus, he could probably get a pretty satisfactory education at home, and trouble always seemed to find him no matter what precautions he took anyway. He might as well let it find him in an environment where the adults actually wanted to look out for him.

He pushed his trolley onward, trying his best to look anything but apprehensive as he approached the train. James went to reach for Harry’s trunk, but Harry waved him off, dragging it off the trolley himself. “Naane pannaren, ‘pa.” (I’ll do it myself, Dad.)

“He’s almost as much of a noodle as you, James.” Lily laughed. “Picking up his own bag and everything.”

“Someone’s all grown up.” James said, cracking a weak smile. “Be good. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah. Got Ron and Hermione, so that’ll be good protection, right?” Harry nodded.

“Just Ron and Hermione?” A familiar voice said, and Harry turned around to see his Uncle Remus with a beaten up suitcase in hand. He looked like he was in quite good health for someone who’d just been through a full moon a few hours before, but perhaps that was owing to the smelly potion that Harry’s mother had been making in the kitchen last week. It had been smoking faintly, and Harry had decided that threatening to drop Drew into it would be an absolutely brilliant joke. It wasn’t. “Oh. You left it to me to surprise him. Right. Surprise.”

“I definitely did that on purpose.” James fidgeted nervously, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “I absolutely did not forget to tell my son crucial information. That is irresponsible and mean.”

“Does this have to do with why we left the other kids with the Patils instead of Sirius and Remus?” Lily raised her eyebrow.

“He forgot.” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “Appa’s horrible at surprises.”

“No harm done, James.” Remus nodded at his friend, before looking to Harry. “I’ll be on the train with you. Just in case. It’s a shame that I’ll have to miss that tea party Anne’s been talking about, though.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were leaving me and Sirius to suffer on purpose.” James shook his head. “If we’re lucky, she won’t insist on the tiaras this time.”

“Rat hunting again?” Harry said, and Remus’ eyes seemed to darken as his eyebrows drew closer together. “How come you’re coming to school with me anyway?”

“Well, you’ll find out tonight.” Remus ruffled Harry’s hair, all fury melting away at the promise of mischief. It was at times like these when Harry could understand how Remus Lupin and his father had befriended each other. “If your father’s decided not to break the secret to you, I’ll let Dumbledore handle it.”

“You’ll be late, if you keep waiting like this.” James ruffled his son’s hair. “Need help with your trunk or anything?”

“No, I’m alright, I think.” Harry nodded, looking around for his friends, and caught sight of a redhead quickly approaching him. “Hey! Ron!”

“Harry!” Ron called out. He stopped in front of his friend with a breathless grin. “You survived the summer! I should have made you a medal.”

Hermione was right behind Ron, and threw her arms around Harry’s neck immediately after he and Ron had finished talking. She looked more well rested than usual, probably owing to the holiday she’d mentioned in the letters she’d sent.

“Hermione! Hey!” Harry’s grin only grew wider. He hadn’t realized how much he missed his friends until he hadn’t seen them. “Come on, let’s get ourselves an empty compartment!” He noticed Ginny trying to escape Mrs. Weasley’s grasp a little way down the platform and turned to Ron. “Does Ginny need someone to sit with?”

“Nah, she said she’s sitting with that Lovegood girl.” Ron said. He glanced back at his sister, as though checking to make sure she hadn’t slipped off to some underground cave with a possessed nail file or something.

“Alright.” Harry shrugged. “Let’s get going then. Bye Mum. Dad.”

“I suppose it’s pointless to ask you to stay out of trouble.” Lily sighed.

“I’ll be fine. Promise.” Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before going over to his mother for a quick hug. He was thirteen, which was far too old for prolonged hugs or cuddling in his opinion, but any comfort he could give her was worth giving. “Stay safe. Rats carry rabies, you know. No one wants rabies.”

“That was a terrible joke. Almost as bad as your father’s.” Lily said dryly.

“I’m not sure whether I should be proud or get mad, really.” James shook his head. “Just get in the damn train.”

“Yeah, let’s get on the damn train.” Ron parroted cheekily. The redhead took off through the crowd before any of the present adults could scold him.

“Quick, run!” Harry dragged his trunk up into the train and, luckily, the first compartment they found was empty. “Let’s claim this one before the firsties get to it!”

“Ickle firsties.” Ron laughed. He dropped his voice in a poor imitation of the twin’s, back when the three of them had been first years themselves.

“Seems like ages ago.” Harry got his trunk onto the rack before flopping down on the seat, stretching out his legs. “Now we’re all older and wiser and all done with our summer homework, aren’t we, Ron?”

“Oh, don’t pull that with me.” Ron snorted. “You probably have as much done as I do, which isn’t very much at all. And our Hermione here probably wrote an extra three pages for every assignment.”

“Only two and a half.” Hermione said, looking quite disgruntled.

“Actually, I did finish mine.” Harry grinned. “Being grounded served me well, for once in my life. Only way I could get out of playing with Anne was to tell her I was doing homework. Too bad I ran out of homework, after awhile.”

“You were only grounded for the first half of summer.” Ron seemed betrayed. “Oh- almost forgot, actually.” He turned to root through his bag, eventually producing a messily wrapped parcel. “Since you had to cancel your birthday and all.”

“Thanks, mate!” Harry messily unwrapped the package, ignoring Hermione’s mutterings about recycling wrapping paper, and grinned. “Wow, Ron, thanks!”

Inside were two separate gifts- one a knit pair of socks, obviously from Mrs. Weasley. Harry, despite never wearing socks at home, had managed to lose two more pairs over the summer, so these would come very much in handy. The other gift appeared to be a homemade charm, like one might hang off a bag. It had an old chain, on which Ron had strung a golden bead, and what seemed to be two wing-shaped earrings. He had tied some yellow and gold ribbon onto it as well.

“I made it myself! Those were mum’s, but she said I could use ‘em.” Ron said.

“It’s like a Snitch!” Harry exclaimed excitedly, reaching under his sweater to put it in the pocket of his shirt so he wouldn’t forget. He’d realized last night, after an intensely terrifying dream in which he’d worn just his robe and gone off to school, that it was much, much faster to wear the parts of his uniform that went under his robe to the station and just put on his robe as they neared Hogwarts. “I like it.”

“I hope you liked what I got you.” Hermione said. She’d collected all the articles on cricket games he’d missed during the last school year, and sent them to him in a binder. Just as well, since his boys had destroyed England last season, which he’d been far too upset to appreciate during Easter holidays.

“Loved it!” He nodded. Much to Sarah’s relief, Hermione had spent the rest of the summer listening to Harry vent about cricket in his letters, which meant much less listening on the part of his other siblings, who were growing quite sick of being surprised by impassioned screaming. Matt, in particular, was not overly fond of being scared, and Harry’d been yelled at by each of their siblings in turn for making him jump. “We’re going to crush Sri Lanka this year, I just know it!”

Hermione, who looked like she was very much regretting opening up this line of conversation, nodded uncertainly. “I guess you’ll find out at the end of the year.”

“No one cares.” Ron groaned. “Cricket isn’t as exciting as Quidditch! Have you seen Ireland’s new keeper?”

“Isn’t as exciting as Quidditch?” Harry shook his head in disgust. Ron didn’t know anything. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ireland’s got a new Keeper?” Hermione frowned, contemplating the pros and cons of retrieving a school book from her trunk. It wasn’t that Hermione wasn’t concerned with sports at all-- she could talk about that topic just as much as any other-- she just had no idea how people could go on talking about it for hours on end. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah- Fred and George reckon he’s rubbish, but he seems great! Not that they stand a chance against the Chudley Cannons, of course.” Ron nodded seriously.

“Haven’t the Cannons lost forever, though?” Harry said, still quite angry about the cricket remark, although everyone else had moved on. Everyone knew the Ireland Keeper was horrible, and Harry in particular was hoping that this didn’t hurt their World Cup chances next summer. “Besides, Ireland and the Cannons aren’t even in the same league.”

Ron let out a horrified gasp at the insult to his favorite team. The Cannons were quite miserable at Quidditch (“practically a team full of Percys”, as Ginny had once said), and rarely ever won a game. In fact, the last time they’d been good enough to win the league had been in 1892, a hundred and one years ago. Despite their faults, however, Ron was staunchly loyal to them each and every year.

Suddenly, as if it had been fueled by peace in the compartment, the train jolted to a stop, and Harry was pitched forward off his seat, landing hard on the floor on his hands and knees. All the lamps went out just as Harry picked himself up, sitting back down on his seat, and rubbed at his knees, which he were sure would bruise.

“D’you think we’ve broken down?” Harry asked, looking around.

“It’s a magic train- I don’t even think it can break down.” Ron was groping around the compartment, obviously attempting to find a new light source.

“That’s my _leg_ , Ron!” Hermione squeaked, after a moment’s silence, and Ron’s murmured apology trailed off into nothingness as he noticed the window slowly frosting over.

“There’s something really weird about all this…” Ron reached hesitantly for the window. He swiped his hand through the frost in order to peer outside the train. “Guys?” His voice had risen into a squeak. “There’s something moving out there.”

The compartment door slowly slid open and two feet seemed to step on Harry’s at once.

“Sorry-- didn’t mean to-- whose feet are those-- Sorry--”

“Nev, it’s alright, just me.” Harry reached out, and surely enough, there was Neville’s hand, only a little higher up than he was used to. It looked like all of his friends had grown this summer except for him. “Here, there’s an empty seat beside me and I’m going to help you sit down there, alright?”

“Thanks, really.” Harry guided Neville down into the seat beside him. “What’s happening?”

“Not a single idea in hell.” Harry rubbed his forehead. “Plan?”

“I’ll go speak to the driver.” Hermione spoke up, and Harry heard her stand and walk to the door, but the door slid open again, followed by a thud and two squeals of pain.

“Ow!”

“Who’s that?” Hermione yelled.

“Hermione?” Called the new voice.

“Oh, Ginny. What are you doing?”

“I was looking for Ron after the train stopped-- but all the lights went out!”

“I’m in here.” Ron piped up.

“Come in and sit down. Should be space left.” Harry spoke up.

There was a rustle as she stepped into the darkened compartment, and then a loud thud. “That isn’t a seat, that’s me!” Ron groaned. Ginny grumbled something between an apology and an insult as she moved to sit beside her brother.

There was a knock on the door, and it slid open to reveal Remus Lupin, who had conjured a handful of shimmering silver flames to serve as a flashlight. He looked particularly tired and gray, but that could have been due to the fact that tired and gray had been his natural state for as long as Harry could remember. Remus shut the door hard after him, looking around the compartment to count the children inside. He seemed to relax once he noticed Harry was safe, but that disappeared once he looked back at the frosted over windows at the top of the compartment door.

“Quiet!” Remus said urgently, having seen something outside. All the children fell silent, although Harry could hear some movement in his corner of the compartment. “Stay exactly where you are.”

The door slid open before he could reach the handle.

There, standing in the doorway, was a tall, cloaked figure, and the last tall, cloaked figure Harry had met was not very kind, so he wasn’t expecting much from this one. Thankfully, there wasn’t a single unicorn in sight this time around. A bluish, scabby, rotting hand reached out from inside the folds of fabric, and it shone in the eerie light cast by the flames. Harry felt the need to retch, but thankfully, the hand shot back into the dark of the cloak as soon as it realized Harry was watching.

The creature took a deep, rattling breath, as if trying to suck in all the air in the compartment, and all the warmth in the world seemed to disappear in a split second. The cold pierced deep into Harry’s skin, and he felt his own breath freeze in his chest, as if he were turning to ice. Remus’ flames went out, suddenly, and the compartment was plunged abruptly into darkness.

Harry felt as if he were drowning, being dragged under by that rotten, slimy hand into a freezing ocean. The roaring of the imaginary waves grew louder and louder in his ears and suddenly, as if from far away, he heard his mother screaming, loud, bright and painful. He wanted to help her, but he couldn’t move his arms or do anything beyond sink further into the cold. It felt as if he were being filled with wet sand, weighing him down further and further--

“Harry! Harry, come on!” Ron suddenly called.

Someone was slapping his face.

“What?” Harry opened his eyes slowly, head throbbing massively, and noticed that the lights were back on. The train’s floor, which he seemed to be lying on, was rocking back and forth beneath him-- the train had started up again. “What happened?”

Ron was leaning over him, his expression pinched with worry. “After that creepy thing showed up you suddenly got all... tense and freaked out. You fell over and started screaming, and your uncle had to get the thing to buzz off. Wigged us all out, it did.”

A loud cracking noise drew Harry’s attention, and he nearly sprang forward into a sitting position. He looked over his shoulder to see Remus breaking a slab of chocolate into smaller pieces and handing them out to his friends. Uncle Remus, while only passingly fond of chocolate himself, was exceedingly invested in its usage as a remedy for just about anything.

“Eat some.” Remus said, handing the still cold square to Harry. Harry kept it in his hand, surprised by the fact that it didn’t melt immediately, leaving his hand all sticky. He’d never been too fond of chocolate, much like his father, and attempts to give Harry chocolate often resulted in stained and sticky trouser pockets. He sniffed it experimentally, thankfully confirming that there was no fruit in it. Fruit inside chocolate was the worst. “It’ll help.”

“What was that?” Harry asked. “What did it want?”

“One of the dementors of Azkaban.” Remus said, shaking his head as he stood up. Harry could feel his hands shaking still. That was a Dementor? How had Pettigrew managed to get past hundreds of those? “I need to speak to the driver immediately.”

“Professor Lupin cast a spell to get rid of it.” Hermione said. “I can’t remember what he’d said, but a silvery thing shot out of his wand and the Dementor glided back out.”

“That thing…” Ron shuddered. “When it showed up I felt like I was never going to be happy ever again.”

Ginny seemed to silently agree with his statement. She was huddled in one of the seats, her face as pale as Harry had ever seen it.

“None of you fell off your seats, though?” Harry looked about the compartment. Ron, Neville and Hermione looked only slightly shaken, and Ginny, who had seen things much more horrifying than him, had managed to stay in her seat the whole time. Only he had landed on the floor.

“Ginny almost did?” Ron volunteered uncertainly.

Harry nodded slowly, getting back up into his seat. His head throbbed every few minutes, the pain returning with a vengeance as soon as he’d forgotten his head was hurting at all, and he felt weak and shivery, as if he was coming down with something. No one else had been as scared as he had, even though they had much better reasons to be. What was wrong with him?

The sliding of the door seemed ten times louder, the noise bouncing about in his skull, and there was some movement beside him before someone sat down, putting an arm about Harry’s thin shoulders.

“You know, Hari, the chocolate’s safe.” Remus didn’t say it quite like his father did, but that was enough to convince Harry to pop the sweet into his mouth. He grimaced at the taste, like always, and was surprised by the sudden burst of warmth spreading all the way down into his fingers and toes. His head was still throbbing weakly, but he felt very much like he could make it to the feast without incident now.

“Yeah.” He muttered, embarrassed. “Thanks. Feeling better.”

They all disembarked from the train, Harry, Hermione and Ron following the crowd along the platform and onto a muddy path beyond the station. Harry saw Hagrid, who was marshalling the first years toward the boats, wave excitedly, but could not muster the energy to wave back. Instead, he kept his head hung and let his friends chatter away around him, trying his best to keep track of the conversation.

There were at least a hundred carriages waiting for the students, and Harry stared at them in awe. He’d missed being able to ride in them as a second year, having come straight to school with his father instead, and he climbed in. It smelled faintly of mold, and Harry fought the urge to throw up. This was more due to the fact that Ron and Hermione kept looking at him nervously, as if he might break if he sat the wrong way, than the smell and slightly damp seats.

The carriage lurched into motion, soon approaching a large, iron gate, and Harry shrank down in his seat at the sight of more dementors standing guard. A wave of nausea threatened to take him over, and he kept his eyes shut tight, chin pressed to his chest, to avoid looking at them further.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked carefully, reaching across the carriage to tap Harry’s knee.

“Yeah. Just fine.” He nodded, chancing to look out the window a few minutes later, and found that they were far past the gates and now approaching the castle. Hermione returned to looking out the window, excitedly pointing out whenever a turret or tower drew closer into view. Ron commented on what he dubbed her “newfound love for architecture”, but looked equally as elated to be back at Hogwarts as his bushy-haired friend. Harry wished he could be as excited as his friends were, but he mostly wanted to lie down.

As Harry stepped down from the carriage, once it came to a halt, he was greeted by a familiar, drawling voice.

“Is it true?” Draco Malfoy stood a few feet away, his expression practically gleeful. “Did you really faint on the train, Potter?”

“Oh shut your trap, Malfoy.” Ron snapped.

“Defensive, Weasley? Maybe you got scared too?” Draco laughed.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?” Remus had been in the next carriage all along, and had disembarked to find this scene unfolding.

“Not anything you need to worry about.” He sneered. His grey eyes took in Remus’ tattered clothing and overall worn appearance with obvious disdain.

Hermione pushed Ron forward, and Harry hurried after them, slipping through the large, wooden front doors to the torchlit hall beyond. The door into the Great Hall stood open, and Harry barely spotted the dreary, bleak looking sky inside before a voice called, “Granger!”

Hermione turned around, spotting Professor McGonagall calling out to her over the sea of heads. She patted Harry’s shoulder, pushing him toward the hall door with Ron. “I’ll only be a second.”

“Are you in trouble?” Ron asked worriedly. “We just got here, you can’t have done anything yet!”

“It’s only a chat about my classes, Ron.” Hermione’s eyes were alight with mirth. “I’m not in trouble.”

“If you’re sure.” Ron grumbled.

Harry and Ron filed into the hall, taking their customary seats at the Gryffindor table, and Harry set his hat down beside him to save a spot for Hermione. Harry could see his father at the teacher’s table, looking quite worried, and decided he would speak to him later. Or, perhaps, never.

He drowned out the Sorting Hat’s song and the endless parade of names in favor of shifting his plate aside and putting his head down on the table, and before he knew it, he was being shaken awake by Hermione, who seemed quite disappointed to have missed the Sorting.

“What was your meeting about?” Harry asked groggily, and Hermione was about to answer when Dumbledore began his speech.

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts.” He offered a smile to the students before continuing. “Before we go over our rules, I wish to inform you all of a new addition here at Hogwarts. Due to current events taking place, dementors have been posted at all entrances and exits. This is for your safety, and I ask that you remain calm. I trust the prefects and head boys and girls will be able to handle this with grace, and answer any questions pertaining to the situation.

Percy, who was seated beside Oliver Wood, practically beamed at this statement. His head boy badge was fastened to his chest and seemed to gleam in the candlelight.

“We also have a new professor joining us this year.” Dumbledore continued. “Professor Remus Lupin will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures, with our groundskeeper Hagrid as his assistant. I’m afraid Professor Kettleburn, who many of you will recall from previous years, has had a terrible accident. He was forced to retire due to his sudden lack of limbs.”

Harry barely stifled a giggle. Remus and Hagrid, teaching Care of Magical Creatures? The universe had never played a better joke than that. Ron and Hermione stared at him in confusion, but Harry shook his head before joining in the applause, which was especially loud at the Gryffindor table.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were the very last to stop clapping, as Dumbledore continued speaking. Harry, in particular, seemed to be making every effort to drown out Dumbledore’s words with whatever noise he could make.

“Let the feast begin!”

The golden plates and cups before them filled with food and drinks, and Harry, who had suddenly developed quite the appetite, helped himself to whatever looked good and began to eat. He felt much better as his stomach filled, and the talking and laughter surrounding him settled his nerves much better than any chocolate could.

Harry grinned at Hagrid, once the man had caught his eye, and waved happily. He knew how much this meant to Hagrid-- he’d been denied an education beyond his third year at Hogwarts because Tom Riddle had seen him as an easy target, and now he was in charge of helping others get their own. And once the tables were clear, Harry dragged Ron and Hermione, who didn’t really need to be dragged as they were just as happy for Hagrid as he was, up to the front table.

“Congratulations!” Hermione said, reaching up to shake Hagrid’s hand. His hand, nearly the size of her head, seemed to swallow hers up.

“All thanks ter you three.” Hagrid said, wiping his teary eyes with the sleeve of his coat. “Can’ believe it still. Great man, Dumbledore. Came straight down to me hut an’ asked if I’d like a raise fer helpin’ Lupin.”

Overcome with emotion, he blew his nose into his coat sleeve, sounding very much like a very tall, very loud foghorn, and the trio hurried away toward Gryffindor Tower, noticing the hall had nearly emptied. 

“Password?” The Fat Lady asked, looking over the crowd of Gryffindors that had assembled.

Percy strode through the crowd of underclassmen. Ron muttered that his brother looked much like a peacock, strutting about the way he was. “Fortuna Major.” The elder Weasley intoned. The portrait swung back to reveal the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

Harry climbed up the staircase as soon as he was let in, a bone deep exhaustion setting in now that he’d eaten, and went straight for his bed the moment he reached his dormitory. It wasn’t home, he thought as he drifted off, but it was pretty close.


	3. Don't Feed the Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s the grim!” The professor wailed. “An omen of death!” 
> 
> “Or I could just be visiting Uncle Sirius soon. It is a black dog. So is he.”

The next morning, Harry trudged into the Great Hall for breakfast, still wanting for sleep despite having dropped off the moment he’d gotten into his bed, with Ron and Hermione trailing behind him. Malfoy, who was standing on one of the benches attached to the Slytherin table, seemed to be prancing about ridiculously, relating a story to his classmates in a whisper. As they passed, Malfoy lost his footing, nearly tumbling to the floor, and the Slytherins began to laugh.

“Ignore him, Harry.” Hermione counseled, grabbing Harry’s upper arm to steer him toward the Gryffindor table. It was lucky that she had stopped him, as Harry certainly would have marched straight back to the Slytherin table and shown Malfoy a world of pain if let alone

“You might ignore him, but I’m gonna knock his lights out if he keeps this up.” Ron hissed

“Hey Potter!” Pansy Parkinson yelled. She looked rather like a dog, Harry thought, but that impression might have come more from her personality than her features. Pansy Parkinson had never approached him before now, but he had it on good authority from Parvati that she was, in fact, a no good meanie, just like her good friend, Draco Malfoy. Like Draco Malfoy, he decided, she might get bored if he ignored her. “The Dementors are coming, Potty! Wooooo!”

Harry shrugged and sat down next to George Weasley, who was excitedly starting in on his breakfast.

“Schedules got passed out.” George informed them through a mouthful of food. “But I have a feeling that isn’t why you’re looking so glum, Harry.

“It’s that stupid Malfoy!” Ron sat heavily beside Harry. “He’s being a prat- I have half a mind to… to show him a piece of my mind!

George turned to look across the Great Hall at Malfoy, who was at that moment pretending to faint. The obnoxious laughter of his fellow Slytherins could be heard from the Gryffindor table. “You want me to teach him a lesson? Little shit hasn’t got a right to be making fun of you, what with how he reacted to the dementors. He came running into our compartment.”

“Nearly pissed himself,” said Fred, looking quite contemptuous as he glared at Malfoy.

“Dad had to go to Azkaban once, for work.” George turned back to the younger Gryffindors. “He came back all twitchy and upset. Those dementors are beasts- they cause most of the prisoners to go mad.”

“We’ll see how tough he acts after our first game of the season.” Fred said, looking quite serious. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin. We’ll show him."

The last time Malfoy and Harry had tangled on the Quidditch field, Malfoy had lost so intensely that he’d cried to his father. Harry’s smile returned in full force at the thought of Malfoy crying again. Excellent. Feeling much more cheerful, Harry gleefully chomped on a piece of buttered toast

“I can’t wait to see our new subjects.” Hermione said, excitedly reviewing her schedule.

“You’re taking way too many classes.” Ron peered over her shoulder. “I thought we were only allowed seven! You aren’t going to have enough time for all of these.”

“Professor McGonagall’s helped me fix it all.” She nodded. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun.” He scoffed. “You’re mental, you know that? Three of these classes are all at the same time. How are you going to be in all three at once- and at nine in the morning, no less!”

“I won’t be in all three at once, Ron. How could anyone do that?” Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It’s all planned for. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll worry about it all I want!” He frowned.

“Pass the jam, Harry.” Hermione said, immediately regretting it when her friend slid the jar across the table a little harder than necessary, nearly knocking the wind out of her. “Pass the jam like normal people pass, not Quidditch pass.”

“Sorry.” Harry said, mouth full of bread. Hermione winced at the sight. “I’ll do softly next time.”

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall, swinging a dead cat around by the tail. He was wearing his usual moleskin overcoat, which resembled a large tent when laid out on the floor. Harry should know, as he and Anne had actually built a tent out of it once. Hagrid stopped by the Gryffindor table once he’d spotted his three favorite students, and clapped Harry on the back so strongly that he nearly fell forward onto the table. Good thing he didn’t, as he might have landed in Hermione’s oatmeal

“Yer in my firs’ ever lesson! Right after lunch! Remus an’ I’ve bin up since five, gettin’ it all ready. Hope it’s okay… Me, a teacher! Hones’ly, can yeh imagine?” Hagrid looked quite thrilled, and Harry figured that if they handed him anything, he’d drop it promptly out of pure nerves. Harry would have feared for the cat, but it was already dead, so there was no need to worry

The trio watched as Hagrid trooped to the front of the Great Hall in order to take his place at the staff table. “What do you suppose the first lesson is?” Ron asked. His tone was apprehensive, but curious. “And what’s he need a dead cat for?”

Harry looked up to the staff table to see Hagrid and Remus excitedly telling his father something, which presumably had something to do with the lesson planned. If the worried expression on his father’s face was anything to go by, Harry was probably going to love today’s lesson.

“We’d better get going.” Harry spoke up, only now noticing how much the hall had emptied. “Divination’s at the top of the North Tower. It’ll take us ten minutes to get there. And I don’t think we have ten minutes.”

The journey through the castle was a long one, only made longer by the memory of Draco’s final taunt as they’d left the Great Hall. He’d pretended to faint yet again, and Harry’d nearly grabbed him by the collar of his perfectly pressed shirt and screamed until Draco cried for his father.

A few minutes later found Ron groaning as he braced himself against a wall. “My legs hurt.” He wheezed. “How many staircases have we gone up? Seven? Aaaaugh, my legs are gonna fall off!” He pushed himself upright again, his eyes catching on a painting situated above them. “Is that a painting of… grass? This school is insane.

“It might be this way?” Hermione said, looking down a passageway to the right. It remained stubbornly empty.

“No, that’s south.” Ron grumbled. “See? That’s the lake."

Harry had turned back to look at the grass painting, which was no longer just a grass painting. A gray pony had just wandered into the scene, leisurely grazing as it went, and Harry wasn’t the least bit surprised. He’d grown up with moving paintings, and if one were to scare him, it would be the one of his grandparents. A moment later, a rather stumpy looking knight stumbled onto the scene, probably chasing the pony. Judging by the grass stains on his knees, the pony was probably not looking forward to being found.

“What villains are thee, to trespass upon my private lands?” He yelled, pointing his sword at Harry, who was not as scared as he felt he should be. It was far too long for the short, fat man to wield, and Harry was rather worried that he might accidentally vault into another painting. Just as Harry had predicted, a wild swing bowled him over and sent the knight sprawling to the ground. “Come to laugh at my fall, perhaps! Dogs, dogs of the worst kind!”

“Listen, sir? You wouldn’t happen to know the way to the North Tower, would you?” Harry asked, eager to get away. The longer he stayed, the more likely this knight was to start yelling.

“A quest?” The knight’s rage seemed to vanish instantly. “Onward, dear friends! Toward our goal!” He tried to tug his sword from the ground and failed miserably, then did even worse in his attempt to mount the pony. “On foot, then!” He cried bravely, before clomping off into the next painting.

Harry, Ron and Hermione ran after him, listening hard for the sound of Sir Cadogan’s armor or voice, and Ron groaned when they realized they’d been nearly halfway across the school from where they were supposed to be. Several ore staircases and passageways later, they heard the murmur of voices in what could only be the right classroom.

“Thanks, Sir.” Harry said, as the knight bowed deeply, very much irritating the card playing monks whose table he’d overturned.

“Farewell, comrades! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!” The knight yelled, before tromping off toward where they had come.

“I would like to repeat my earlier statement.” Ron said. “This school is insane.”

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where everyone else was standing. There were no doors off this landing, which left Harry quite puzzled.

A tug at his robes had Harry following Ron’s gaze upwards. “There’s a trapdoor in the ceiling.” The Weasley pointed out.

“A door in the ceiling?” Harry frowned. “How are we supposed to get up there?”

As if in answer to his question, the trapdoor opened slowly, and a silvery ladder slid out. It tapped softly against the floor right at Harry’s feet.

“Like that, I’d reckon."

Harry set off up the ladder, and entered what had to be the strangest classroom known to man. It looked like a mix between Uncle Remus’ half of the bedroom and a tea shop-- hopelessly overcrowded and smelly. It was full of circular tables, surrounded by soft looking armchairs, and Harry gratefully sank into one, Ron sitting down right next to him.

“Where’s the teacher?” Ron glanced around.

A voice echoed out of the shadows. It was a soft, ethereal sort of voice, akin to one Harry would imagine for a creepy child. But when Sybill Trelawney entered the room, his initial impression was one of a large, glittering insect.

“Ah yes… How lovely to see you all in the physical world.” She sighed

The professor was very thin, and wore large glasses that made her eyes seem many times larger than they were. She was draped in a thin shawl, which seemed to be either made of or covered in beads and chains. Her arms and hands were covered in bangles and rings, which made Harry wonder how he hadn’t heard her coming from at least halfway across the castle.

“Welcome to Divination. You may have noticed that you do not recognize me- unless one of you has been gifted with a vision of the future. I never venture downstairs, I’m afraid, as it clouds my inner eye.” She waved her hands as she spoke, as though conducting some invisible orchestra. Several students had begun murmuring to themselves, though Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seemed enraptured. “This is a very different class than what you’re used to. Books will only take you so far, in Divination.”

Harry and Ron glanced over at Hermione, who looked as if she’d been slapped across the face

“This is a very special gift, and very few of you will be blessed with the sight.” She swept her way through the classroom, easily maneuvering through armchairs and tables. She came to a stop beside Dean Thomas, and stared at him for a long moment. “How is your father doing, child?”

“My father?” Dean looked quite confused. “He’s alright. Should be off to work, around now."

“I don’t believe so.” She hummed.

Dean looked quite panicked at this revelation, instantly grabbing Seamus by the sleeve of his robe. Seamus covered his friend’s hand with his own, staring owlishly at the professor.

Trelawney continued her trek around the room, stopping to murmur to Parvati. “Beware a redheaded man.” She advised

Parvati sneered at Ron, looking away as soon as she noticed Harry glaring in her direction.

“I suppose we should start with the basics, as you’re all beginners. First term we’ll be covering tea leaves. We’ll delve into palmistry after that, and in second term we’ll study fire omens. Classes will be canceled for a short time in February, as I’ll have the flu and lose my voice. Someone will be leaving our class around Easter.

The class seemed to grow even more tense, after this announcement, and Professor Trelawney seemed entirely unaware of this.

She turned to Lavender Brown without further preamble. “Could you pass me the largest silver teapot?”

Lavender, who looked quite relieved that nothing bad had been said off the bat, walked over to the shelf full of teapots and cups, and grabbed the largest one, which was simply enormous, and put it down in front of Professor Trelawney.

“Thank you.” She sighed. “And, oh, the thing you’re dreading will take place on Friday, the sixteenth of October.

Lavender looked ready to burst into tears, and Parvati threw an arm about her shoulders, pulling Lavender into her side.

“You’ll divide into pairs now, and each collect a teacup. I’ll fill it for you, and I expect you to drink until only the dregs remain. After that, swill the cup about thrice, using your left hand only. Turn the cup upside down on your saucer and wait for the tea to drain away. Following that, your partner will take your cup and read the leaves.” Trelawney advised. “Patterns are in your textbooks, pages five and six.

When Harry and Ron had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the tea as quickly as possible. Harry finished first, having held his nose to avoid smelling it and poured the disgusting brew straight down his throat, and Ron groaned in frustration. Harry seemed reluctant to hold the cup in his left hand, but proceeded with the instructions anyway, grimacing the whole while

They swapped cups, and Harry peered into Ron’s before opening his book. He had no idea that school could be this disgusting

“So what is it?” Ron asked curiously.

“Cow dung. A lot of it.” Harry deadpanned, looking Ron straight in the eye. He stood up, leaning over the table until his face was practically centimeters from Ron’s before speaking again. “Everywhere.”

Trelawney spoke over Ron’s burst of giggles. “Broaden your minds, children! Allow your inner eye to see past the mundane!”

Harry tried to pull himself together, but the fumes in the room left him feeling bogged down.

“You’ve got what looks like a wonky cross.” Harry said, checking the pattern against the book. “So that’s trials and suffering, which isn’t good. But here’s the sun, so that’s great happiness. You’re going to suffer, so you’ll be happy about it.” Harry felt quite proud of himself, but Ron’s laughter was a good, solid sign that he probably shouldn’t be.

“It looks to me like you need your inner eye tested.” He snickered.

Ron took Harry’s cup and peered inside. “Hmm… Well, I’m not sure. This bit here looks kind of like my dad’s bowler hat. Maybe you’ll end up working for the ministry? And, this part here kind of reminds me of an acorn. Obviously an… uh… unexpected windfall of gold. Cool. You can share with me.” The redhead turned the cup a bit and frowned. “Well this looks like an animal. Maybe a hippo or a sheep or something… reckon it’s Fluffy?”

Trelawney suddenly appeared beside the table in order to pluck Harry’s cup from Ron’s hand. “Let me see… a falcon. You have a deadly enemy, my boy.” She intoned.

“We all know he’s got a deadly enemy, Professor.” Hermione spoke up, looking quite annoyed as she stared into her partner’s teacup. “Everyone knows about Harry and You-Know-Who.”

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione in a mixture of awe and surprise-- they’d never heard her talk to a teacher like this before. Professor Trelawney remained silent. She continued to turn Harry’s cup, shaking her head.

“Club- that signifies an attack. A skull for danger, and-” Trelawney cut off with a horrified shriek. The class ground to a halt, and someone fumbled with their cup, which shattered against the floor.

“Is something wrong, Professor?” Harry asked, now feeling strangely unsettled by her response.

“No.” She gasped, clutching the cup closer as she stumbled back to her own chair. “It’s better you don’t know!"

“What is it, Professor?” Dean spoke up. Everyone was crowding around her, trying to get a good look at Harry’s cup.

“It’s the grim!” The professor wailed. “An omen of death!”

“Or I could just be visiting Uncle Sirius soon. It is a black dog. So is he.” Harry shrugged, not sure what all this fuss was about. If he was going to die, he’d already know. Historically, problems always presented themselves at or before the start of the school ye-- Pettigrew. Maybe he was going to die. Brilliant. Everyone was staring at Harry, to make the deal even sweeter, except for Hermione, who’d gone up behind Professor Trelawney’s chair.

“I don’t think it looks like a Grim.” She said, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, my dear…” Trelawney set the cup down. “Not all are born with the gift... “

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from left to right.

“Could be a Grim from this side”, he said, squinting. “but it looks like a donkey from the left.”

“When you’re all done deciding when I’m going to die or not, there are tons of other people here.” Harry spoke up, surprising himself. He shrank back down into his chair. At least no one was looking at him now, as they slunk back to their seats.

Trelawney tittered nervously, her large eyes darted from one side to the other. “Perhaps… Perhaps we should leave it at that. Yes. Yes, class is over for the day. You’re all dismissed.”

The class all handed their teacups back to Professor Trelawney in relative silence, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed out of the room. It took them so long to find the Transfiguration classroom that, even though they’d left Divination early, they were just on time.

Harry chose a seat in the back of the room, but still felt as if all the eyes in the room were upon him. He sank a little lower into his seat, chest feeling uncomfortably tight, and barely registered that Professor McGonagall was lecturing about Animagi. Seeing as he had grown up living with one, Harry would not have been enthusiastic, but he might have managed to fake a few noises of surprise.

McGonagall suddenly leapt forward, her form shifting into that of a grey tabby cat. She landed gracefully on the desk, only to be met with silence. After a moment she returned to her normal form and swept around to the front of the room. “Normally that trick earns me quite the round of applause, and yet you’re all sitting as still as statues. What’s the matter, then?” When no one responded, she clapped her hands together. “Out with it.”

“We’ve just had our first lesson with Professor Trelawney.” Hermione spoke up. “And we were reading tea leaves.”

McGonagall snorted in quite an unladylike manner. “Oh, is that all? Which one of you will be dying this year?”

“Me.” Harry said, speaking up. The tight feeling in his chest only grew worse and worse, and Harry was sure he looked quite pathetic.  

“Buck up, Mister Potter. Professor Trelawney has predicted a student’s death every year for as long as she’s worked here. As far as I’m aware, none of them have died yet. Divination is impractical and unreliable, and I hardly count it as a subject to be taken seriously.” The professor said. “You look perfectly healthy to me. However, if you do happen to die, feel free not to hand in the homework.”

Hermione laughed, and Harry felt a little better, and the rest of Transfiguration only improved his mood. Harry had inherited a fair bit of his father’s natural talent for the subject, and he quite enjoyed it. But the part of Transfiguration that he was going to enjoy most this year was the fact that it came right before lunch, and he excitedly ran down to the Great Hall with the rest of his classmates to prove it.

Ron was helping himself to a large portion of lunch as Harry settled down. “You seen any big black dogs roaming about, mate?”

“Other than Uncle Sirius? Not at all.” Harry munched on his sandwich.

“Your uncle is an Animagus?” Hermione said, looking quite awestruck. “That must be so interesting.”

“Oh, you should come over for Deer Versus Dog night.” Harry grinned. “Dad does his stag thing and attacks Uncle Sirius out of nowhere just to freak him out. Quite fun to watch.”

“Your father’s one too?” Hermione frowned. “But there are only seven registered Animaguses and I didn’t recognize any names other than McGonagall’s.”

“It’s basically the worst kept secret ever.” Harry shrugged. “Everybody knows. At least Dad doesn’t turn when he’s freaked out anymore.”

“He did it at my sixth birthday party!” Ron exclaimed. “March third, 1986. It was wicked.”

“How do you remember this stuff?” Harry pulled a face. “At least the cake still tasted alright.”

“Yeah well, back to that grim thing. You know my uncle Bilius saw one once?” Ron said. “Died a day later.”

“Coincidence.” Hermione said, pouring herself some more pumpkin juice.

“You shouldn’t go talking about it like that!” Ron warned her. “Most wizards take it seriously. It’s terrifying!”

“There you go, then. They die of fear, not because they saw the Grim. The Grim is the cause, not a related omen.” Hermione said, throwing in a smirk to unsettle Ron further. “We should be thankful that Harry’s not stupid enough to think he should die every time he looks at a black dog.”

Ron stuck his tongue out at her.

Hermione ignored him, resting one of her books against an empty juice jugs. “I don’t think Divination is worth the work. Much of it is guesswork, from what I understand.”

“It was the grim in that cup!” Ron insisted.

“You thought it was a sheep.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like some kind of expert now.”

“Yeah well the teacher said so, and she’s an expert.” Ron said firmly as he crossed his arms.

Ron seemed to have hit Hermione where it hurt, as she retreated from the conversation abruptly, slamming her book shut. Harry stood up, wanting to stop her, but then realized that might do more harm than help. It was the same way when Drew and Sarah fought-- you had to let it run its course, rather than trying to stop it at all, because, like his siblings, Ron and Hermione were both more than capable of holding a grudge. He sat back down, and started in on his carrots, which were terribly mushy and tasted like nothing at all.

“If being good at Divination means pretending to see omens in a lump of tea leaves, I’m not sure I’ll pursue it further! It was absolutely rubbish compared to Arithmancy!” Hermione said, snatching up her bag and slipping the book in, before stalking away.

“But you haven’t even had arithmancy yet…?” Ron frowned at her retreating form.

* * *

Harry nearly ran down the hill to Hagrid’s Hut, leaving his friends to sulk as they trudged forward behind him. Ron and Hermione were both resolute in their desire to never speak to each other again, and Harry knew that it would only be a couple hours until one or both of them gave up. Phase One, the actual fight, was really the most dangerous part, and that was old news now.

It was only when he spotted three very familiar figures that he realized that these lessons must be with the Slytherins, and Harry shook his head. Great. Just what he needed, after that abysmal Divination lesson.

“C’mon now!” Hagrid called gleefully, Remus already leading a group of the children along the edge of the forest. “Rest of yeh, follow Remus! I’ll take up the end!”

For one horrible moment, Harry thought that Hagrid and Remus might take them into the forest, and he didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Ron tapped his shoulder, looking quite worried. They eventually reached a paddock, and Harry relaxed slightly only because it looked empty.

“Gather around the fence.” Remus called out, looking quite excited. “Hagrid came up with today’s lesson, because he was quite eager to give you lot a memorable first day. However, as these creatures are covered only sparingly in your books, I think you might benefit more from seeing them in action than reading.”

Hermione, for the second time today, looked horrified.

“An’ now, the Magical Creatures!” Hagrid said cheerfully, going striding into the section of forest beyond the paddock.

“This oaf, actually teaching?” Draco scoffed. “Even if he were just an assistant, it’s quite absurd. Wait until my father hears about this.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Harry glared at the Slytherin. What did he know about having to work for anything? Hagrid had worked harder than anyone Harry knew for his whole life, and Harry was determined to make sure this first lesson was as big a success as it could be.

Draco suddenly feigned shock and horror. “Oh no, Potter, look out behind you! A… A dementor!” Crab and Goyle raised their hands and began making strange noises before the three of them all dissolved into laughter.

“Oh, look!” Lavender Brown cried out, pointing toward the far side of the paddock.

They were large creatures, slightly bigger than a horse. Their back halves closely resembled a horse, actually, though their front seemed to be that of a gryphon. Gleaming feathers and sharp eyes stood out most of all as they trotted forward. There were a dozen of them, all on leashes. Hagrid kept a good grip on them as he led the group towards the students.

“Hurry up there!” He called to the large animals, shaking the chains slightly as they thundered up to the fence, which was suddenly looking far too flimsy to contain them. Everyone stepped back as the animals approached the edge of the enclosure, only daring to come closer as Hagrid tied their chains to the fence.

“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid cried out gleefully, surveying the class for reactions. “Beau’iful creatures, they are.”

Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. The Hippogriffs looked like some monster out of Matt’s drawings, but they had an odd allure to them despite the fact that they didn’t look very open to petting or cuddles.

“Any volunteers?” Remus asked, while Harry was busy staring at the Hippogriffs. So deep was Harry in his thoughts, that he didn’t notice when the rest of the class stepped back, creating the illusion that Harry had been the one to step forward.

“I’ll do it.” Harry said, feeling much less brave than a Gryffindor should while watching the Hippogriffs flexing their powerful wings.

There was a sharp intake of breath behind him, and Lavender Brown yelled out a reminder to consider his tea leaves, which was met by the most disdainful expression Hermione could manage.

Harry ignored all of the drama, for once in his life, and made the smarter choice-- he climbed over the fence toward certain death instead.

“Good man, Harry.” Hagrid said, although Remus looked much more unsure. This, Harry thought, was probably what his father looked worried about. It was too late to consider any danger, though, as Hagrid had already untethered one of the animals, the one with the gray coat. “Let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak.”

“Keep eye contact, and try not to blink.” Remus instructed, ready to jump in at any moment.

“Hippogriffs don’t trust yeh if yeh blink too much.” Hagrid added.

Harry’s eyes immediately began to water, but he resolutely kept them open. He wasn’t going to die because of a large, angry eagle horse got mad. Buckbeak stared at Harry with one large, orange eye.

“Now bow, Harry.”

Harry didn’t feel much like exposing the back of his neck to Buckbeak, but it was better to be maimed than dead, so he followed what Hagrid had said and bowed quickly, standing back up. Buckbeak stared at him haughtily, head cocked to the right, and didn’t move.

“Alright, Harry, I want you to slowly leave the paddock.” Remus said, voice growing closer. Harry didn’t know where either of his teachers were, as he was desperately trying to keep eye contact.  But, much to his surprise, the hippogriff bent its knees a second later and sank into what was unmistakably a bow.

“Well done, Harry!” Hagrid cried, tossing Buckbeak a dead ferret. “Pat his beak, go on.”

Harry would have much preferred to be let out of class early, or perhaps just go home for the night, but he dutifully walked forward and pet the beak of the hippogriff. Buckbeak seemed to be enjoying it, his eyes slipping shut.

The class, everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, that is, broke into applause, especially Ron and Hermione, who had been quite distressed the whole time.

“Who else wants a go?” yelled Hagrid, and Harry climbed back over the fence as his classmates, feeling more confident after witnessing a success, slowly climbed into the paddock. Within minutes, Hagrid had every hippogriff untied, and he and Remus were monitoring the other children practicing bows.

“If Potter can do it, I doubt it’s hard” Draco scoffed, approaching one of the hippogriffs. “You aren’t very dangerous at all, are you?”

A quick slash of steely talons across Draco’s arm set him straight, and Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak into his collar less than a second later as Buckbeak strained to get at Draco again. Remus pulled the boy away, muttering healing charms under his breath to try and help things along.

Draco ignored Remus, choosing instead to wail loudly. “I’m dying!” He shrieked. “It’s maimed me! The bloody thing has maimed me!”

Although blood was blossoming over the sleeve of Malfoy’s robes, anyone could tell that he was in no danger of dying. There was a long, deep gash on his arm, but nothing life threatening. At most, Madam Pomfrey would keep him in for ten minutes, and most of those ten minutes would be berating him for angering the hippogriff in the first place.

“Can you walk, Malfoy?” Remus asked, and Malfoy whined something unintelligible, leading Remus to pick him up like one would a baby. “Class dismissed!”

Hagrid stared in horror as Remus lead the class back to the castle, the Slytherins not so quietly expressing their opinions on the tragedy that had occurred.

“It was Draco’s fault!” Dean snapped, even as Crabbe and Goyle growled. “If he hadn’t provoked it, he’d be absolutely fine.”

“I… I’m gonna make sure he’s okay!” Pansy suddenly exclaimed.

She ran up the marble staircase to the hospital wing, but the rest of the Slytherins continued down to their dungeon common room. The Gryffindors proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower, Harry, Ron and Hermione among them.

“D’you think he’ll be alright?” Hermione asked, looking quite worried.

“It’s Malfoy.” Harry said flatly, shaking his head. “He’d cry loudly enough to crack the sky open over a papercut. Besides, Pomfrey’s mended much worse.” Harry knew that for a fact, as he himself had had much worse injuries mended by the nurse.

“It’s too bad he ruined Hagrid’s first class like that…”

It was even more worrying that, when they finally reached the Great Hall for dinner, Hagrid was not among the professors at the head table. Neither were Harry’s father or Remus, leaving the table nearly halfway empty.

“They wouldn’t fire him, would they?” Hermione asked cautiously, poking at her food.

“I hope not.” Ron mumbled. He pushed away his plate of food, as though his worry for Hagrid had destroyed his appetite.

Harry was busy glowering at the Slytherin table, where Crabbe and Goyle were telling everyone a heavily fictionalized account of how Malfoy had come to be injured.

“Well… it was a pretty eventful first day, at least.” Ron sighed.

“Want to know what would make it more eventful?” Harry asked, having lost his patience with dinner again. “An adventure.”

“Nope. Nu-uh. Don’t you remember last year? We aren’t running off in the middle of the night just ‘cause you want to check on Hagrid.” Ron insisted.

“It’s not the middle of the night, it’s only seven.” Harry pouted. “Hermione, isn’t it seven?”

Hermione barely looked up from her work. “Of course it’s seven. We’re eating.”

“And that’s not the middle of the night, so there.” Harry crossed his arms, looking quite satisfied with himself. “Plenty of time to stop by Hagrid’s.”

“You’re both mental.” Ron grumbled.

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron’s statement, quickly standing up and wiping his hands off on his pants. He hadn’t used his hands to eat, but it had become a part of his dinner routine over the years. It was a part that his father hated, of course, which only pushed Harry to do it more. “Come on. Hagrid needs us. Would you leave me if I sort of accidentally maybe hurt Draco Malfoy?”

“You kidding? I’d want to help you with that one. Bundles of fun, hurting Draco Malfoy.” Ron groaned, but got to his feet.

“So that’s next week planned for.” Harry said brightly. “You coming, Hermione? You’ve been working for hours. That’s not good.”

“Fine.” Hermione said, shutting her book and tucking it away into her bag. “But only for a little bit-- I can’t afford to fall behind this early in the term.”

“It’ll be your own fault for taking so many bloody classes!” Ron threw his hands into the air.

“If we don’t help him get this settled, Hagrid may not be teaching any classes at all.” Harry said, looking quite glum, and hurried from the hall with his friends in tow.

The three of them hurried across the grounds in the fading light. Eventually Hagrid’s hut came into view, and Ron wasted no time in knocking on the door.

“C’min.” said a voice from inside the hut, sounding much more sad than usual.

Hagrid was sitting at his table, head resting on his arms. Fang was lying with his head in Hagrid’s lap. There was a large pitcher in front of him, which was nearly empty. Hagrid stumbled to his feet once he noticed they’d come inside, his sad expression shifting to something happier.

“Uh, hey Hagrid.” Ron glanced at the pitcher with a frown. “How are you feeling?”

“‘Spect it’s a record, this is.” He said mournfully. “Don’ reckon they’ve ever had a teacher last a day before."

“Aw no, Hagrid. They won’t fire you!” Ron said.

“Not yet.” Hagrid said miserably, before draining the rest of the tankard. “Only a matter o’ time, though. After Malfoy.”

“Malfoy’s faking everything.” Harry said decisively, frowning. “Madam Pomfrey could fix anything! He’s just milking this for all it’s worth. Shouldn’t have expected any less from him, really."

“Shoulda started smaller, like Remus said.” Hagrid shook his head. “He was sayin’ we shoulda done flobberworms or summat to start out.”

“I don’t like worms.” Harry shuddered. “They’re all slimy and wiggly. Like Malfoy, only without his pointy little face.”

“The hippogriffs were cool! It was Malfoy’s own fault for being an idiot.” Ron insisted.

“We’re your witnesses.” Harry nodded. “You told us they’d attack if we mouthed off! We’ll tell Dumbledore and the governors and the Minister, even, if we have to!”

Hagrid wrapped Harry and Ron into the tightest hug either of them had ever received, and Harry patted Hagrid’s shoulder weakly in an attempt to comfort his friend. It felt like his ribs were breaking, but that was alright. Madam Pomfrey could fix those.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, Hagrid.” Hermione grabbed the tankard off the table and set it down while looking for a stool she could use to reach Hagrid’s cupboards. “Time to sleep it off, I think.”

“Maybe she’s right.” Hagrid said, finally letting Harry and Ron go before stumbling outside. Harry rubbed at his aching ribs, and judging by his expression, Ron was feeling the same way.

They heard a loud splash, and then Hagrid wandered back in, hair, beard and shoulders soaking wet. He’d shoved his head in the water barrel. He wiped the water out of his eyes before squinting at the three students in his hut. “Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an’ see me, but--” He seemed to notice Harry for the first time, and frowned more deeply than Harry had ever seen Hagrid frown.

“WHAT D’YEH THINK YOU’RE DOIN’, HARRY?” He roared, so suddenly that Harry nearly ran to hide behind Fang. “YEH’RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN’ AFTER DARK, WITH PETTIGREW ABOUT! AN’ YOU TWO! LETTING HIM!"

Hagrid grabbed Harry roughly by the arm, and marched him out the door. “I’m takin’ yeh all back up ter school, an’ don’t let me catch yeh walkin’ down ter see me after dark again! I’m not worth what could happen!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our tumblrs are [desiprongspotter](desiprongspotter,tumblr.com) and [yamibakuraofficial](yamibakuraofficial.tumblr.com)\- drop us a line! We love hearing from you guys!


	4. The Boggart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was little time left in class, and Harry wanted to try. But what would his Boggart be? Before he could take the time to think about the horrendous things Pettigrew might do to his parents and siblings, a feeling of cold invaded his mind and he remembered rotting, scabby fingers extending beyond the hem of a ratty, torn up cloak.
> 
> That’s what he was scared of.

Malfoy didn’t reappear until late on Thursday, time Harry privately suspected had been spent concocting an even wilder story of how his obviously life-threatening injury had come to pass. Judging by the sneer on his face when he finally deemed himself healed enough for classes halfway through double Potions, Harry was absolutely right. His right arm was covered in enough bandages to make it appear twice its size, and supported by a sling. Malfoy seemed to be entirely under the impression that he had survived a bloody, terrifying battle, and Harry had much better things to do than remind him that he’d been beaten by a bird.

“How is it, Draco?” asked Pansy Parkinson, who looked quite concerned. Harry nearly laughed in light of how worried she sounded about Draco’s likely healed arm. Good friends were hard to come by, he supposed, so it was nice that Draco Malfoy had at least one who wasn’t related to him.

“It might scar.” Draco sighed loudly, his expression looking comically haunted. “My arm may never be the same, Pansy.” She let out a horrified gasp and turned away, as though the thought were too much to bear. Draco proceeded to wink at Crabbe and Goyle, who snickered.

“Quiet down.” Snape ordered.

Harry fumed, looking to Ron, who was scowling quite fiercely. If any of them had been Gryffindors, they would have lost fifty points apiece for the act of breathing, let alone carrying on like a hero. Of course, in Snape’s classroom, Malfoy could get away with absolutely anything. The opposite was true of Harry, who seemed to have convinced Snape that he was an arrogant brat by taking notes in his first class.

Of course, even appearing to slack on his potion was enough to earn him several months of detentions, so Harry slogged away at his potion, hoping it would be somewhere within the color range necessary to pass. His mother’s skill at Potions had skipped over both him and Sarah for sure, but he thankfully lacked his little sister’s tendency toward causing blatant destruction. Sarah had once been called upon to add a single ingredient to a potion and had blown a hole in the roof.

Today’s potion was a Shrinking Solution, which Harry was hoping that Snape would not test on him. He was quite short, for thirteen, but still taking hope in the fact that his father, who his grandmother affectionately referred to as a coconut tree, had remained quite short until about fifteen. Perhaps Snape could dab some on Malfoy’s ego, Harry thought, as that definitely needed a good, solid shrinking.

Malfoy himself interrupted Harry’s thoughts, with a rather pitiful moan. “I can’t…” He said. “My arm is too weak… I can’t cut the daisy roots.”

Snape let out a sigh. “Weasley, assist Mister Malfoy.”

“What?!” Ron slammed his knife down on the table. “Your arm is fine, Malfoy!”

“You heard the professor.” Draco smirked.

Ron let out a noise that might have been scary, had he not been a twiggy thirteen year old. He stalked over to the Slytherin’s table and quickly began chopping at his ingredients. He seemed to be cutting it as unevenly as possible out of sheer spite.

“Professor! Weasley is cutting it all wrong!” Draco’s uninjured arm shot into the ai

Snape strode through the dank potions room, a wicked grin spreading over his thin lips. “Hmm… Weasley, give Mister Malfoy your roots and use the ones you just cut in your own potion.”

“But!” Ron rocketed to his feet in dismay. “That’s not fair! I spent ages cutting them right! The potion won’t work otherwise!”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Snape was far too amused about the situation.

Ron held his ground for another moment before stalking back to his own table with his handful of ruined ingredients. He shoved the roots he had spent the majority of the class on at Malfoy with a muttered curse.

Draco smirked smugly before making another breezy command. “I also need a shrivelfig skinned, professor.”

Snape sneered down at Harry for a long moment, as though he were something found on the bottom of his boot. Or perhaps an insect that had taken up residence in his perpetually greasy hair. “Hop to it, Potter.”

Harry skinned the shrivelfig as quickly as possible, nearly drawing blood from his bottom lip in his effort to keep his mouth shut, before flinging it across the table to Malfoy. Malfoy seemed happier than ever to have gotten Harry to do his work, and smiled brightly.

“Have you seen that oaf, Hagrid?” Draco hissed wickedly. “My father is going to have him fired.”

“Hagrid isn’t any of your business.” Ron shot back.

“It doesn’t matter what you think. He won’t be teaching here any longer, once my father is done with him. He was livid to hear about what the dunce had allowed to happen to me."

“So that’s what this is for.” Harry said, looking quite angry. His knife slipped, accidentally separating a caterpillar from its head. “If you milk it for long enough, Hagrid’ll lose his job.”

“Well there are certainly other benefits. Like keeping your people in their place.” Draco’s grin grew wider. “Ingredients to be chopped, Potter.”

“Miss Patil.” Snape’s voice rang out from the other side of the room. “This potion is acid green, not lime green. Have you completely failed to pay attention to my teachings?”

Harry looked over to judge the situation, ready to defend Parvati against Snape, only to find someone who was distinctly not Parvati standing beside her cauldron. Padma was looking directly at Snape, her sister’s Gryffindor tie wound around her neck, an apparently oblivious Lavender Brown at her side. Harry would have groaned aloud if that wouldn’t have drawn Snape’s attention to himself. Why did he always fall in with troublemakers?

Padma and Parvati were hard to tell apart, he supposed, but after growing up with them, he had a pretty good eye for which twin was which. Apparently, this talent also extended to Fred and George Weasley, as well as his younger brothers. Without him, the Great Matt And Drew Switch of 1985 might never have been resolved. Who knows how long his parents would have called them by the wrong names?

“They spotted Pettigrew near here.” Seamus suddenly whispered, taking advantage of Snape’s distraction. “The muggles think he’s some regular criminal, so someone called it in. Disappeared by the time the ministry got there.”

Harry stiffened in fear, and Malfoy looked up, leaning in to listen closer.

“Not too far from here…?” Ron looked at Harry. His blue eyes were bright with worry, though they easily swung to glare at Draco. “Mind your own business.”

“Is something the matter, Potter?” Draco’s eyes shone malevolently. “Are you scared? If I were you I would have gone off to fight him by now, I imagine.”

“What, Malfoy?” Harry asked, his voice sounding much braver than he felt. “Call your father to take care of him for you?” The class broke out into peals of laughter, and Malfoy’s pale face turned bright red in embarrassment.

“Detention, Potter. Stop disrupting my class.” Snape snapped.

“I’m just saying,” Malfoy said breezily, “that if Pettigrew did what he did to my parents, I’d certainly want revenge.”

Harry ignored him, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. His potion was done already, so there was no need to subject himself to more of Malfoy’s presence. Ron was only a few seconds behind him, having finally added his ingredients and left the brew to stew. “What did Malfoy mean? About Pettigrew having done something?”

“He’s just trying to get you to do something stupid. Don’t worry about him.” Ron advised. “At least we aren’t Neville, right? Snape tried to kill his toad yesterday.”

Harry stared at Ron in horror, and as soon as Snape dismissed the class seconds later, they ran out the door and up the stairs, Hermione close behind them.

“Can you believe what Snape did to Parvati today?” Harry asked, shaking his head. The fact that Parvati and Padma were switching places was vital information, and Mrs. Patil wasn’t going to like it if he told. Finally, he had dirt on them. “Totally unwarranted! I mean, is there even a difference between lime green and acid green?” Instead of the usual immediate answer, there was only the commotion of a normal Hogwarts hallway. He looked behind himself, where Hermione had been only a second before, to find no one. “Hermione?”

“... Wasn’t she right behind us?” Ron asked.

But there was no Hermione. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle walked past, all smirking triumphantly in Harry’s direction.

Harry spotted Hermione running up the stairs, huffing and puffing for breath, with her bag clutched close to her side. She stuck out like a sore thumb among the pale skinned student body just as he did, and her brown hair swung wildly behind her as she tried her best to run. She finally made it up behind them, patting the front of her robes as if checking something was there, before breaking into a grin. “Sorry, I couldn’t keep up.”

“How did you do that?” Ron demanded.

“What?” asked Hermione, puzzled.

“You were right behind us…!”

“I had to go back to get something”, she said, and gasped as the seam of her bag ripped open. Harry wasn’t surprised that it had, for Hermione had stuffed it past maximum capacity with big, heavy looking textbooks.

“I’ll help, hold on.” Hermione looked quite skeptical as Harry put his hand over the rip and focused hard on the image of Hermione’s bag, except with an unbroken seam. His father had taught him a few tricks over the summer, to help him get a little ahead of the curve, and the look on Hermione’s face was enough to prove that he’d surprised her. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Yeah.” Harry stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. “No problem. Might not hold too long, so you’ll want to get it actually fixed.”

“Why do you have so many books?” Ron demanded. “You don’t even have half these classes today!”

“Yes.” She said, sounding as if she hadn’t been listening to Ron at all. “I hope lunch is good. I’m starving.”

Harry shrugged. His lunches at Hogwarts tended to be horribly repetitive, considering nearly all of the actual food was full of meat, and therefore, entirely off limits. Good thing his father packed lunch for him every once in awhile, or Madam Pomfrey would have even more reasons to shake her head at him when he ended up in the Hospital Wing. Of course, getting lunch from home was not always good, because it was almost always thayir sadham. Harry wrinkled his nose. Yogurt rice was the worst.

“Do you ever feel like she’s keeping something from us? Or is it just a girl thing?” Ron mumbled.

* * *

“Good afternoon, kids!” James said cheerily, when the children filed into the Defense classroom. A couple people were getting stacks of parchment out, and James shook his head, holding back a laugh. “You can get rid of the notes. We’re going on a field trip.”

Ron cheered loudly, along with the rest of the students.

Harry watched as the rest of his classmates exchanged looks while repacking their bags. He wasn’t expecting anything exciting-- the last time his father had proposed a field trip was three years ago, when Matt had cried at the zoo. His parents should have known that it wouldn’t end well, bringing notoriously soft-hearted Mattie to a zoo full of caged animals. All it had taken was reading the word captivity on one animal’s cage and Matt had spent the whole afternoon blubbering about fairness and the world being mean.

His father lead the class out the door and Harry followed dutifully, keeping a close eye on Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be recounting the tale of his injury yet again. Thankfully, no one seemed to be caring too much about the volume at which Draco was telling everyone about his poor, mangled arm. They turned a corner to find Peeves hanging upside down, stuffing the keyhole of a dusty looking door with chewing gum.

“Hello there, Peeves.” said James, looking quite cheerful. “What is it you’re doing there?”

“Potty wee Potter!” Peeves exclaimed gleefully. “You can’t do anything to me! You haven’t got a badge anymore!”

“You’re in trouble, Peeves.” James said, all traces of cheer gone suddenly. “You fix this now and I’ll look the other way. Deal?”

Peeves, as exasperating as he was, was nothing on compared to Harry when he was a toddler, from what Harry had heard, so it made sense that his father would deal with him the same way.

“What’s it matter to you?” Peeves said, sounding quite disgruntled. “This isn’t your door.”

“But it’s Filch’s door.” James said. “And he won’t like his brooms being out of reach.”

Peeves’ only reply was a loud, wet raspberry, and Harry could tell by the look on James’ face that someone was going to get in big trouble.

James pulled his wand out of his pocket, and pointed it at the keyhole, murmuring something under his breath. A second later, the chewing gum sped out of the hole and up Peeves’ nose, and the poltergeist emitted a shrill shriek before disappearing down the hallway, cursing loudly all the while.

“That was cool.” Parvati, who was actually Parvati this time, said.

“One time, a couple friends and I locked Peeves in with Moaning Myrtle.” James said, as they began walking again. “That was funny.”

They stopped in front of the staff room, and Harry stared at his father in confusion. What was he thinking? The staff room was strictly off limits to students. As if he’d heard his thoughts, James Potter immediately began to speak.

“We’ve gotten special permission to be here, so I want you all on your best behavior. Everyone needs to show the utmost respect to the professors who are in here.” The tiniest hint of a grin emerged as James pointed Professor Snape out in particular. “Can’t disturb their important work, can we?”

“Shut the door, will you?” James called out to a tall, weedy looking Slytherin boy. After a few seconds, Harry recognized the boy as Theodore Nott, who was quite good at Defense.

Snape stood up after a moment in order to sweep out of the room. He cast James a decidedly bitter look as he took his exit.

“Alright then, maybe that’s a little less to worry about for some of us.” James locked eyes with Harry for a split second before continuing. The wardrobe in the corner of the room chose that moment to rattle threateningly, and a couple students took a step back. “Don’t worry, we’ll have that rattling stopped in a second. Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?"

Hermione’s hand was waving wildly in the air, and she spoke as soon as James pointed to her. “Boggarts are shape-shifters. They take the form of whatever we fear most.”

“Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor!” James declared. “And this one is in the cupboard because?”

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces.” Hermione spoke up again. “It doesn’t have to have a form in the dark, because no one’s actively looking at it. That’s why no one knows what boggarts actually look like.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” James said, looking quite proud. “This means that we have an advantage here, and a really useful one, when we first let it out. And what’s that, Harry?”

Harry was glad that he’d had an answer prepared, this time, and Hermione’s waving hand was a safe backup. “It’ll see all of us and get confused.”

“Perfect.” James grinned. “Always have company, when you’re dealing with boggarts. When a boggart’s trying to become a headless corpse and a flesh eating slug all at once, there are only funny combinations.”

Harry stifled a chuckle. He knew for a fact that his uncle Sirius had been the one scared of the headless corpse and that a disastrous childhood trip to the zoo had left his father terrified of flesh eating slugs. Uncle Remus loved telling the story of how the boggart had become half a slug to this day.

Of course, now, all of their boggarts were different.

“I’ll need a volunteer to go over this with.” James looked around the classroom, eyes settling on the boy who he’d asked to close the door. “Nott. Theo, isn’t it? Right, why don’t you come up.” The wardrobe rattled again, but Theo slowly walked up to James’ side. “That’s it, that’s it. The charm to get rid of the boggart is simple. I want you to practice saying it without your wand out a couple times so you don’t accidentally chop your head off or something, okay?” Theo’s face went even paler than it already was. “The incantation is Riddikulus. Come on, everyone.”

Harry groaned. Latin incantations were hopelessly tricky and unnecessarily complicated, but he’d play along. “Riddikulus,” everyone said, including Theo, who now looked even more nervous.

“Just saying the word is not enough.” James said, looking over the class. “See, this is where the creative types will have it a little easier than the rest.” He nodded in Dean Thomas’ direction, Dean looking all the more happy for it. “You’ve got to imagine something funny to turn it into. Make your worst fear into something that you can laugh at. Make it fall to pieces. Imprison it in alphabet blocks. Put a cereal bowl over its head. Fun things.”

“How did you fix the slug?” Ron called out excitedly.

“We turned it into my friend Sirius’ mum.” James said, not looking the least bit sorry. “Alright, Theo. Go ahead.”

With a wave of his arm, the wardrobe door swung open. Nothing happened, for a second, as they’d been told, and then a large, imposing man strode out of the cupboard. He was clad in black, flowing robes, and his bald head reflected the light of the torches lining the walls. He bared his teeth as he advanced on his son, who was frozen in fright. James was about to cast the incantation himself when Theo yelled “RIDDIKULUS” and the old man found himself wearing horrendously awful Muggle clothes. He seemed mystified by this, and the class’ clapping caused the boggart to grow confused again, losing the shape that had terrified Theo so much to become a whirlwind of forms.

“Alright, make a line! Theo, stay by me, if you will.” James said, placing a hand on Theo’s shoulder once he carefully drew up to James’ side. Theo seemed to be doing his best not to shrug it off, Harry noted, as he tried to get to the front of the line. There was little time left in class, and he wanted to try. But what would his Boggart be? Before he could take the time to think about the horrendous things Pettigrew might do to his parents and siblings, a feeling of cold invaded his mind and he remembered rotting, scabby fingers extending beyond the hem of a ratty, torn up cloak.

That’s what he was scared of.

Parvati stepped forward, and the boggart took the form of a mummy, stumbling toward her. With a swish of her wand and a yelled “Riddikulus”, its bandages began to unravel and it tripped all over itself, collapsing into pieces on the floor. The class laughed, and James motioned for the next person to go forward before leaning down to talk to Theo, who still seemed quite shaken.

Seamus was up next, and where the mummy had stood a moment before was now a green skinned, skeletal woman-- a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and let out a scream that had Harry covering his ears.

“Riddikulus!” shouted Seamus, and the banshee clutched at her throat before disappearing. “Guess she lost her voice!” He remarked cheerfully. The boggart was changing more rapidly now, first an eyeball, then a rattlesnake and, as Harry noticed his father looked up for a split second, it shifted into a ragged looking brown rat.

Dean stepped forward, and it settled on the form of a severed hand, creeping across the floor like a crab. Dean waved his wand and shouted the incantation, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

“Very good, Dean!” shouted James, who seemed to be done talking to Theo, who remained by his side. “Two more, two more. Ron, go ahead!” Harry, recognizing that he was right behind Ron, shuddered. Now that he knew what the boggart would become, he didn’t want to go. But right behind him was Crabbe, and hell if he was going to let one of Draco Malfoy’s lackeys have a go at the boggart instead of him.

Ron stepped forward confidently, only to stumble back as the boggart shifted into a spider twice the size of Harry. He seemed to fumble for a moment before shouting “Riddikulus!” All at once, each of the spider’s eight legs were trapped inside bright pink rollerskates.

Harry stepped up, steeling himself, and drew his wand.

A dementor surged toward him, looking every bit as terrifying as it had in the train, and he willed his heavy muscles to wave the wand properly. “Riddikulus!” The dementor morphed into a rather pathetic looking child’s balloon, waving helplessly in the wind. James leaned down to say something into Theo’s ear.

“Finish him off, Theo.” He said, one hand still on the boy’s shoulder, and Theo let out a laugh. The boggart burst into smoke, and James ruffled Theo’s hair. “Excellent job. Five points to everyone who faced the boggart, and twenty extra to Slytherin for Theo’s excellent volunteering skills. That’s today, everyone. Class dismissed.”

Everyone else was talking loudly as they let the classroom, excitedly discussing how they’d handled their boggarts, but Harry felt as if he’d failed, even though he’d technically succeeded. He’d gotten the boggart to do something funny, yes, but it had nearly beat him before then.

“Did anyone see Professor Potter’s boggart?” Lavender Brown spoke up. “Harry, what do you think it is?”

“A rat.” Harry said, quite confused about the matter himself. It wasn’t as if rats were natural predators for stags, which eliminated the only possibility he could think of. “He’s afraid that Mum might find out that he’s left food lying around again, I suppose.”

“Rats are scary.” Lavender said, wincing, and returned to her conversation with Parvati.

“That was so much fun!” Ron enthused. “The best defense class yet!”

“I wish I could have had a turn with the boggart.” Hermione said, looking quite miffed. “It was an alright class, otherwise.”

Ron snorted. “What would your boggart even be? A homework assignment where you only got a nine out of ten?”

 


	5. A Rat Infestation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily Evans-Potter was a practical woman. She could successfully take care of four children while her husband was at work- two who were always arguing, one who seemed to have made it his life’s goal to break everything in her house, and one who went missing for hours at a time. She could handle that. She had married James Potter, after all.
> 
> Today, however, was Halloween. And that was never a good sign.

If asked what his favorite class was, in the weeks following the infamous Draco Malfoy Takedown, Harry would enthusiastically reply that Care of Magical Creatures had been a life changing experience. And, indeed, many of his classmates felt the same way. Only Draco Malfoy and his cronies had anything bad to say about Remus Lupin or Hagrid, because they’d finally hit their stride in terms of teaching-- the lessons were a perfect balance of life-threatening and informative, and they hadn’t had to read more than a page so far.

Of course, there were dull moments, and most of them were because of the flobberworms. Flobberworms, which were quite possibly the most boring creatures ever, simply required lettuce to be shoved down their slimy throats at regular intervals. That was all there was to them. Ron was especially not fond of flobberworms, which Harry found quite hilarious, as the flobberworms seemed more enthusiastic about eating Ron’s fingers than the lettuce he was supposed to be feeding them.

But, as the middle of October approached, Harry had other things on his mind, namely, the approaching Quidditch season. It would be Oliver’s last with the Gryffindor team, and Harry was as determined as Oliver was that this year would end in a trophy. They hadn’t won the trophy one time in the seven years Oliver had been at Hogwarts, and Harry was absolutely sure that his captain deserved much better than that. In fact, the whole team deserved better than that.

Oliver seemed to be in complete agreement, as his speeches only got more and more impressive as the year went on. He was delivering a particularly spirited one from the top of the benches in the locker room that very day, in fact.

“We’ve got to be the best team to ever set foot out on that quidditch pitch! We have to believe that we are the best if we’re going to be the best! And we are the best!” He announced loudly. “We have team members they couldn’t dream of having. We have the best chasers this side of London- I’m talking about you! Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson! You’ve thrashed their hides before they even see you coming!”

There were several hoots in response from the girls.

“We have our unbeatable beaters, the Weasley twins!” He gestured towards the redheads in question, who began beating their chests and cheering.

“And our most valuable team member- the fastest seeker I’ve ever had. Harry Potter!”

Harry grinned, nearly bouncing up and down in excitement. Oliver had said he was the most valuable member on the team, and he didn’t say those kinds of things lightly.

“Ollie, don’t count yourself out!” George laughed.

“Oh. Well, I’m pretty good too, if I do say so myself!” He agreed.

Training sessions began, taking up more of Harry’s time than ever before. Three evenings a week, he and his teammates trooped out to the often muddy Quidditch pitch to train for hours on end. The weather grew wetter and colder, as October drew to a close, but nothing could take Harry’s attention off the thought of finally winning a Quidditch Cup for his house. Plus, he had to get going if he was planning to smash his father’s tally of four cups won-- he only had five tries left.

After one such training session, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room feeling quite tuckered out but very satisfied. Everyone seemed much more excited than usual, and he trooped over to Hermione and Ron, who were sitting in two of the nicer chairs by the fire with a third saved for him, tracking mud along the floor. “What’s happened?”

“The first Hogsmeade weekend is coming up!” Ron said excitedly. “Everyone’s gonna get as much Halloween supplies as they can carry.”

“Excellent!” Fred said, going up to read the notice on the board more clearly. He’d followed Harry in, along with the rest of the team, and they were all equally muddy, which was likely going to be a nightmare for the house elves. “I’m nearly out of Stink Pellets! That calls for a visit to Zonko’s!”

“Hogsmeade visit?” Harry frowned, looking quite confused. “I thought those were only fourth year and up.” His father had explicitly said so over the summer, while they were owl ordering Harry’s books from Diagon Alley.

“No.” Hermione shook her head, looking quite confused. “They sent permission forms home, over the summer. You had to get a parent or guardian to sign it. They’re only due by the first visit, but maybe you can go to the next one!”

“I never got a permission form.” Harry said, frowning. “It wouldn’t have gotten lost or anything.”

“Well your dad is a professor.” Ron pointed out. “McGonagall probably gave it to him in person.”

“Maybe.” Harry said, nodding. His father wouldn’t have withheld the form without a good reason, but it still irked him that he was missing out on an opportunity to have fun with his classmates. His parents had spoken often of going to Hogsmeade with their friends, and later each other, very fondly, and the fact that he’d almost missed out was quite annoying.“I’m sure everything’ll be just fine with the whole Pettigrew thing, by the next visit.”

“Yeah-- if they spotted him nearby, there’s no way the ministry won’t catch that guy by then.” Ron agreed.

“He’s been sighted once already, and they’ve probably got some clues from where he stopped last.” Hermione said.

“Ask McGonagall if you can go!” Ron suggested. “They might not let us go again until spring, and that’s ages away.”

“Ron!” Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s supposed to stay in school! Hogwarts is the safest place for Harry to be right now.”

“Well he can’t be the only one left behind! He’d be stuck with all the first and second years!”

“Yeah.” Harry said gloomily. “While we’re at it, let’s lock me up in a metal box so I’ll be extra safe.”

“We’re leaving you behind just for that.” Hermione said, shaking her head.

A large, orange ball of fur jumped onto Hermione’s lap, a half-dead spider in its mouth, and Ron nearly shrieked in surprise as she began petting it. Harry winced as it gobbled up the spider, keeping eye contact with Ron the whole while, before purring happily at Hermione afterward. This particular monster was Hermione’s pet cat, Crookshanks, who seemed to be intent on cutting Ron out of their friend group.

Harry yawned, rubbing at his eyes, before finally flopping down into the chair. “Good thing you’ve not got a rat, Ron. We’d have hell to pay.”

“Ick, who’d want a rat anyways?”

* * *

The next two weeks leading up to the Hogsmeade visit passed in a blur, and Harry found himself standing outside the Defense classroom on the afternoon of the thirtieth, an extra permission form in hand. McGonagall had grudgingly handed it over to him, with a warning to keep safe and accept it if his father refused to sign it, and Harry had nodded along. Not that he was planning to comply, of course, and even if he spent the entirety of the visit finding a way out of Hogwarts, it would be time well spent.

“Appa?” He asked, ducking into the classroom, and found his father marking papers at the desk. “Professor McGonagall gave me the form for Hogsmeade and--”

“You won’t be going, so there’s no need for the form.” James said, scribbling a comment at the top of a fourth year’s essay before putting it aside. “Save it for later, maybe.”

“If Pettigrew gets caught, then can I go?” Harry asked, the tiniest bit hopeful, but that was crushed quickly enough when his father frowned, still not looking up from his papers.

“It’s not safe.” James said decisively, as if his opinion were the only one that mattered. Harry scowled as James put the last of his papers aside and looked up. “Even if Pettigrew gets caught, there are other people out there that want to do you harm. I can’t let you go out unsupervised.”

“But I won’t be unsupervised!” Harry shot back. “There’ll be teachers and other students and adults! And I’ll have Ron and Hermione too!”

“Your mother and I both agreed that you’re not going, and Sirius has been told not to sign the form if you ask him as well.” Harry frowned. That hadn’t even occurred to him, but the thought was useless now, considering Uncle Sirius would likely get even angrier than his father would if asked. “If you want to come home instead, that can be arranged.”

“Yeah, like I want to spend more time with you after this.” Harry growled, crumpling up the permission slip. “Forget it. I’ll just stay at school and watch all my friends enjoy themselves because my parents are paranoid and think I’ll die if I even exist for a second away from them.”

“Hari.” James did not look happy. “That’s not the way you talk about your parents.”

“Isn’t it true, though?” Harry, unfortunately, had inherited the Evans temper, and it always tended to pop up at the least convenient moments. “You and Mum never let us do normal stuff ‘cause you’re afraid someone’s going to kidnap us or kill us or something! Just let me do something fun with my friends for once without it being ruined by Voldemort, alright?!”

“I’m not signing the papers.” James said, voice lowering to a whisper, and Harry shuddered. Unlike most parents, James Potter only got quieter as he got angry, and he’d never heard him get this quiet before. “And you’re going to go straight back to your dormitory and think about how hurtful you’re being.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t make me do anything.” Harry said, crossing his arms. “You’re just my teacher here, not my dad.”

“I’m always your dad.” James said sharply, before pointing to the door. “Out. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“I’m not leaving.” Harry said resolutely.

“Then I will.” James got up, grabbing the stack of essays, and retreated into his office, slamming the door behind him.

Harry stood in the classroom for a few minutes more, fuming, and made his way back to his dormitory when he realized his father was really done fighting for the afternoon. He tossed the balled up permission form on the floor by his bed, before stepping on it a few times for good measure.

“I didn’t even want to go to Hogsmeade anyway.” He said to the empty room. “It’s stupid and I don’t like it.”

If rooms could speak, Harry was sure this one would say that it didn’t believe him.

* * *

On Halloween morning, Harry trudged down to the Great Hall along with the rest of his classmates, feeling thoroughly guilty for yelling at his father so much the afternoon before, but he’d be damned if he apologized.

“We’ll bring you back loads of sweets from Honeydukes,” Hermione, who looked quite sorry, said. She, along with Ron, was convinced that his dampened mood was simply a result of being denied a signature on his form, and he was going to let them think that for as long as possible. He appreciated the sentiment, though-- sweets were a rare offer from Hermione, who, much like her parents, was often very concerned about tooth damage.

“Loads of sweets!” Ron agreed. “And I bet I can get Fred and George to help me choose something from Zonko’s for you.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, picking at his breakfast. “Look, you two go ahead. Have fun. Don’t worry about me, alright? There’s the feast in the evening, and I’ll get all the food I need then.” He tried his best to look enthusiastic about his circumstances, which wasn’t easy at all. The feast would have been much better if he’d come back to it after a day in Hogsmeade, like all his friends were going to. Instead, Harry was to keep to his Common Room and occupy his own time.

“... It’ll probably suck.” Ron offered. “I mean.. The weather is crummy, and it probably won’t even be that fun.”

“Yeah.” Harry sat at the table a few minutes longer before waving goodbye to his friends and trudging back up to the Gryffindor Common Room and picking the nicest chair near the fire. He had plenty of homework to catch upon, and he might as well do some of it to make it look like he’d tried.

A few hours later, he’d powered through a couple of star charts and a particularly boring Divination assignment in which he’d predicted his death thrice the following week, once by tea poisoning. Harry decided then, as a reward before the feast, that some exploring would be a good choice. After running into both Hagrid and the Astronomy professor, whose name Harry still did not know, he wandered down to the Entrance Hall in time to find his friends, who were looking as if they’d just had the time of their lives.

“Hogsmeade was really cool!” Ron gushed, practically bouncing with excitement. “We had lunch at the Three Broomsticks and went shopping- oh! We got you sweets, just like we promised! It would have been so much more fun with you there too, mate.”

“I did homework.” Harry said, brightening up slightly when he saw the proud expression on Hermione’s face. “Took a walk, had a chat with Hagrid. Had a blast, really.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” Hermione said, as they walked into the immaculately decorated Great Hall, stuffed to the brim with floating, candle filled pumpkins. Harry thought he saw a flock of live bats flitting about, and hoped desperately that Snape would join them, but unfortunately, his Potions teacher remained at the head table. His father had turned up to the feast, against all odds, and looked quite shaken as Hagrid tried to coax him into a conversation. Snape, oddly enough, seemed to be quite fixated on Remus Lupin's empty chair, staring intently at it as if it would reveal the reason for his absence.

After some of the best food Hogwarts had had all year, the ghosts put on a show, and then the feast drew to a close. It had been a pleasant evening, despite how badly he’d thought the day would go, and Harry was quite cheerful as Ron and Hermione accompanied him back up to Gryffindor Tower.

Unfortunately, the evening was about to take a horrifying turn.

“What’s going on…?” Ron frowned as they entered the corridor where the Fat Lady was situated. Gryffindor students were packed together, all shouting in confusion. “Why isn’t anyone going in?”

Harry shrugged. Ron was the tallest of the three of them, so if anyone could see what was going on up ahead, it would be him.

“Let me through-- let me through, I said! I’m the head boy!” Percy called as he shoved his way through the crowd. “You can’t all have forgotten the password!”

Once Percy had reached the front, an unnatural silence fell over the group, and seemed to radiate outward from Percy and those surrounding him through the crowd of students.

“Someone get the headmaster!” Percy said.

Ginny stumbled through the crowd as well, eventually grabbing onto Ron’s sleeve. “What’s going on?”

His answer was interrupted by the arrival of Dumbledore, who urged them all to remain calm.

Harry, Ron and Hermione moved closer, hoping to catch sight of what had happened, and Harry immediately wished he hadn’t upon seeing the ruined painting. It had been ripped to shreds, a large chunk of canvas lying on the floor, completely torn away. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, tightly gripping it, and looked up to see his father behind him, looking quite terrified.

“Tell Filch to search the castle- we need to find the portrait she’s fled to.” Dumbledore’s voice had taken on a commanding tone.

“No need!” Peeves suddenly shouted from the ceiling. “She’s on the fourth floor! Don’t want to be seen.”

“Did she tell you who did it, Peeves?” Dumbledore asked.

“Oh, he got so mad when she wouldn’t let him into his old stomping grounds, he did.”

Harry’s heart dropped. There was only one person who would have done something this desperate to gain entrance into the Common Room, and who knew what he’d taken? He gulped as he looked around. Who knew what he’d done before he got here? He hadn’t written home in days, none of his siblings had written him back, and the last time he’d spoken to his father, he’d been unbearably rude. Hopefully, everyone was safe. Hopefully, this was just a freak accident. Hopefully--

“Nasty boy, that Peter Pettigrew.” Peeves hummed.

“Appa--” Harry called out, but his father was already dragging him down the hallway to another set of stairs. “Your office?”

“Where else?” James said, keeping his hand tightly clasped around Harry’s shoulder. “Quickly. Dumbledore knows. No one will go after us.”

“Amma enga, Appa?” Harry asked, as they ducked into the Defense classroom, his father letting go of him for a split second to lock the doors. Harry, knowing the next step in his father’s routine, was thankful that there were no windows to check. That, at least, was some small kindness. (Where’s Mom, Dad?)

“I don’t know.” James said, each word sounding more forced than the next. “Get in the office-- two sets of doors between us and him is better than one.”

Harry nodded, running up the stairs and into the Defense Teacher’s office, keeping the door open until his father could follow him in, and then locked the door, hands shaking.

“Idhu mathiri thaan irundhudhaa?” Harry asked, barely able to keep still. He dug his wand out of his pocket, holding it as tightly as possible as he watched the locked door. (Was it like this then?)

James chuckled, looking quite tired. “Idhukku mela.” (Worse than this.)

“Inge irukkanumaa?” Harry looked to his father, still twiddling his thumbs. (Do we have to stay here?)

“Theriyaadhu.” James shrugged. “We wait for Dumbledore’s word, I guess.” (I don’t know.)

“Does it always come down to Dumbledore?” Harry asked, frowning as he flopped down in the chair beside his father’s desk.

“More often than I’d like.” James sighed, taking a seat in his own chair before fixing his gaze on the Floo, as if expecting his wife to come through and tell him this was some kind of a sick joke. The fire roared merrily, casting shadows onto the floor, and Harry wondered how long locking themselves away would deny the inevitable.

* * *

Lily Evans-Potter was a practical woman. She could successfully take care of four children while her husband was at work- two who were always arguing, one who seemed to have made it his life’s goal to break everything in her house, and one who went missing for hours at a time. She could handle that. She had married James Potter, after all.

Today, however, was Halloween. And that was never a good sign. Normally this night would be spent barricaded inside with her husband and children. James had been planning on flooing in after the feast. The feast had ended hours ago and there was still no sign of her missing husband.

Anne and Drew had managed to locate Matt, at least, and the three of them were in the kitchen making hot chocolate. Loudly. So loudly, in fact, that Lily was beginning to question whether they were making hot chocolate at all. Sarah, who thankfully had no interest in cooking at the moment, was sprawled out on the floor close by with one of Harry’s first year textbooks.

A heavy sigh escaped Lily as she took a seat on the couch, looking briefly to the fireplace before spotting her wand on the coffee table. She picked it up, laying it across her lap, before also reaching for the Daily Prophet. The evening edition had come late today, but she had barely noticed, what with all the rounds around the house to check that every entrance was locked.

‘ _Hogwarts on Lockdown: Peter Pettigrew Within the School_?’ was emblazoned across the cover page. Lily felt the paper crumple beneath her fingers as her heart skipped a beat. A cold and heavy hand seemed to be gripping her chest as she shot to her feet. “ _Kids_! Get in here right now!” She shouted.

Her voice was tinged with hysteria, and that seemed to spur the triplets on. Matt came rocketing into the living room in order to latch onto his mother’s sweater, and Anne and Drew followed close behind.

“What is it?” Drew shouted.

“What’s wrong?!” Anne seemed to be searching for the source of Lily’s distress, as though she were going to destroy it herself.

Sarah shut her book, noticing that her mother had the newspaper in her hand. “What happened?” She wasn’t as quick to run to her mother as the others, taking her time standing up and joining the group.

Lily didn’t answer. She turned towards the fireplace as she thought. Peter knew where they lived-- if he could get into Hogwarts, surely he could get past the enchantments they had set up? And James wouldn't be able to leave the school now. He wouldn’t be coming home as planned. She needed to take the children and find somewhere safe to go.

The fire suddenly roared to life and turned green-- but Lily hadn’t grabbed the floo powder yet. Without hesitating, she flung her arm out in order to box in the children behind her and pointed her wand in the direction of the fireplace. “Stupefy!”

The spell ricocheted off the wall an inch above Sirius’ head.

“Bloody hell!” He lunged away from both Lily and her hexes, even as she lowered her wand. “Were you trying to take my head off?”

“I thought you might be…” Lily grimaced.

“Don’t worry about it.” He quickly counted the kids. “Everyone holding up alright?”

Anne nodded grimly, but Drew was too busy trying to keep Matt from crying. He was doing a decent job of it thus far, seeing as the youngest triplet hadn’t burst into tears yet. Though that might have been because of shock more than anything else. Sarah seemed to have gone back on her previous decision, sticking close to Lily’s side rather than engaging with any of her siblings.

“Amma?” Sarah asked. “What did the newspaper say?”

Lily shared a look with Sirius before replying slowly. “Hogwarts is on lockdown. No one can get in or leave.” She said.

“Then Appa and Hari Anna?” Drew trailed off.

“They won’t be joining us tonight. But! I’m sure they’ll be fine.” She knelt down to smile at her son, though her words were more to reassure herself than anything else. A heavy silence fell across the group before Sirius cleared his throat.

“You know what I think we should do?” He asked, clapping a hand down on Sarah’s shoulder.

“Cry?” Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think that sounds like an option. Look, and Matt’s already getting started.”

Matt sniffled as he valiantly attempted to hold back tears. Anne frowned at her older sister.

“I was actually going to suggest a blanket fort.” Sirius advised. “Y’know. Like our own lockdown castle. Good plan?”

The children all seemed to glance at each other before finally Drew shrugged. Matt seemed particularly taken with the idea-- if Sirius hadn’t suggested it, he probably would have found his own place to hide.

“We’ll need to build some sort of a solid structure first.” Sarah said, looking around the room thoughtfully. “Because if it falls down, that defeats the whole purpose.”

“I’m naming you head architect.” Sirius pointed at her. “Anne-- collect some blankets.”

“I’ll go with you.” Lily volunteered quickly. She didn’t want any of the kids going off on their own, even if it was just to get some blankets from the linen closet. “Sirius will stay here with you guys and get started, okay?”

“Drew, find some chairs.” Sarah said, already planning how big of a fort they would need to hide everyone. “If we’re going to make this, it’s got to be good.”

“Yes ma’am!” He said, already scrambling into the dining room. He returned a moment later, dragging a chair behind him, as Lily and Anne re-entered with armfuls of blankets and sheets. The two redheads deposited their loads onto the couch before Anne went to help Drew with the chairs.

“Sirius, a word?” Lily motioned for her friend to join her near the wall.

“You keep going, Sarah, I’ll be right back!” Sirius told her.

“Like Uncle Sirius would have done anything.” Sarah said, scrunching up her nose. “Good thing Drew never asked who broke his Cannons lamp.”

“Was that Uncle Sirius?” Matt asked with wide eyes.

“Who else?” Sarah scoffed, shaking her head, and pulled Matt along to the dining room to get more chairs.

Sirius’ smile immediately fell as he turned his back to the children. “Yeah, I saw the article.” He whispered. “There isn’t really any information yet.”

“Are they even sure it’s him?” Lily murmured back.

“No. It’s pretty much all speculation at this point. But what else could it be?” Sirius shrugged helplessly.

“Anything but that.” Lily ran a hand through her hair.

“Look, I’m sure this’ll all blow over soon and James’ll show up like nothing ever happened.”

“You’ll want to be back in your flat by then.” Lily reminded him. “With Remus how he is...”

“Look, I know how you get on Halloween. I figured with Pettigrew pulling this shit, you’d need help with the kids.” He said. “Stewing alone at home wasn’t doing me any good.”

“I just need this to be over with already.” Lily whispered, her gaze drawn back to the four children quickly erecting a foundation for a fort.

“Yeah… I know what you mean.”

* * *

Few things are more exhausting than the construction of a structurally sound pillow fort, and by the time Sarah and her siblings had built a fort that fit her standards, they only had enough energy to fall asleep in it. Thankfully, someone had brought along a few pillows, so they’d all piled up and fallen fast asleep a few hours ahead of schedule.

Sirius had fallen into a light doze in the early hours of the morning, but Lily remained awake. She absently stroked Sarah’s hair as she stared at the smoldering remains of the previous night’s fire. It hadn’t been disturbed by the floo or anything else since Sirius’ arrival. James and Harry remained missing, presumably (hopefully) safe and sound at Hogwarts.

The flames rose up, then blazed a bright green before someone tumbled out of the fireplace, covered in soot and coughing loudly.

Lily’s grip on her wand tightened before recognition flooded her. She scrambled to her feet, careful not to disturb the sleeping children (though Sirius jolted awake at her movements) as she moved to steady the new addition to her living room.

“Amma?” Harry asked, reaching out for his mother. “Oh, good, I didn’t end up in Knockturn again.”

Lily immediately crushed Harry to her chest, pressing her face into his hair. “Oh, thank god. I was so worried, Harry. Are you alright? Where’s your father?” She pulled back only enough to get a response.

“Coming through in a second.” Harry clung to Lily as tightly as he could. “Had to talk to Dumbledore. He sent me ahead. I’m alright, I guess.”

Lily pressed several kisses to Harry’s forehead as Sirius crawled out of the blanket fort that had grown to encompass the majority of the living room. As he left, Drew, who had been fast asleep on Sirius’ arm, made a whining noise and rolled over onto Anne. “Is James with you?” He asked.

“Wow, so we all know who you actually like best.” Harry mumbled, rolling his eyes.

The flames in the fireplace turned green again, spitting out James Potter.

“Good news.” James spoke up, looking over the fort. “Nobody’s dead. Bad news, it was actually Peter. The Map never lies.”

Harry had no idea what map he was talking about, but if Peter Pettigrew had truly gotten into Hogwarts, that meant he could easily do it a second time. Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place for him to be, but if Pettigrew had broken in without anyone noticing, was anywhere truly safe? Was it even safe here?

Seeing everyone together in front of him was an even bigger reminder that it wasn’t just him this time around, like it had been in the corridor first year and in the Chamber last school year—it was all of them, in it to win or die trying. And if this wasn’t proof that they were in it to win, then Harry didn’t know what was. He clung to his mother, trying his best not to cry. She was worried enough—she didn’t need him adding to it. She and Appa both were far too scared to take any thoughts along these lines well, so he kept them to himself, rolling them around in his head.

His mother didn’t seem like she was ever going to let go of him, and to tell the truth, he wasn’t very opposed to that thought. He could stay here forever, safe from Voldemort and Pettigrew and everyone else who wanted to hurt him, and his parents would keep him safe. All he had to do was ask. But he had Ron and Hermione at Hogwarts, and Neville and Parvati and Padma and Dean and Seamus—all people who needed to be protected too. And if he could help keep them safe by being a little scared and making the hard choice, then the hard choice was worth making.

“It’ll be okay, Amma. You just watch.” Harry whispered, trying to calm her down. “They’re gonna catch him today, I bet. Nobody messes with you and gets away with it, right?”

“Definitely not.” Lily agreed, rubbing circles into Harry’s back while gesturing for James to come join them with her other hand. “I’ll kick his butt if he tries anything like that again.”

James gave a weak smile, then walked over to his wife and son. He wrapped his arms around Lily from behind, jokingly pushing Harry’s head back softly. “All the kids are okay?”

Lily tutted as she pulled Harry closer, even as she leaned her head against James’ shoulder. “Sound asleep in the fort. It was Sirius’ idea, before you ask. They’ll probably wake up soon, with all this noise we’re making.”

“I’ll get them set up in their rooms, then.” James planted a kiss on her temple before letting go of them and walking over to the blanket fort. He counted all four kids inside before looking to Lily. “Alright, so do we scare them first or get them upstairs first? The ultimate question.”

“They’ve been scared enough for one day, don’t you think?” Lily raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” James mocked whining, rolling his eyes, before shaking Anne’s shoulder. “Come on, kanna, time for bed.”

“Appa?” Anne rubbed at her eyes as she lifted her head from the nest of pillows. “You’re home.”

“Of course I am.” James said, looking as cheerful as possible as he pinched her cheek. “Like I’d leave you guys to Uncle Sirius. That’d just be mean.”

“I like you better than Uncle Sirius.” Anne agreed sleepily.

“Who’s here?” Drew mumbled as Anne’s movements nudged him awake.

“Appa and Hari Anna.” Matt crawled out of the tent, pausing for a moment to take in the scene before him, and stumbled to his feet. 

Sarah had to be shaken awake as well, never one to wake up quickly or easily. “What? Let go of me-- Oh, Appa. Hi.” James helped her up and out of the tent slowly, ruffling her hair as she leaned heavily on him.

“Onward, tiny minions.” James pointed to the stairs. “I’ve got to make sure you get into bed and then get yelled at within the next half hour, so we’re on a tight schedule, alright?”

Drew agreed sleepily as he trudged up the stairs, and Matt paused to hug his father around the waist before following. The boys were followed by Sarah, who detached herself from her father to trudge up the stairs toward her bedroom. Anne raised her arms up towards James as though asking to be carried up the stairs.

“You’re eight years old, silly.” James said, groaning loudly as he picked her up anyway. “Vaa di, rasathi.” (Come on then, princess.)

“Love you, Appa.” She yawned loudly, resting her head on his shoulder.  

“I love me too.” James nodded, starting up the stairs. “But you’re pretty great.”

“He’s ridiculous.” Lily sighed as the pair disappeared down the dark hallway.

“I don’t think ridiculous is enough to describe him.” Harry rolled his eyes. “He needs his own adjective.”

“We can brainstorm once I’ve had a full night’s sleep.” Lily straightened slightly, though she didn’t release Harry.

“I'm going to head out- will you be alright without me?” Sirius asked. 

“Well, I’m sure we can handle dismantling the fort without you.” Lily said.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “Considering Appa says I’m home tomorrow, there’s time and people, so that’s something. Plus, anything’s better than flobberworms.” 

The couple disappeared into the fireplace with quiet goodbyes. Lily led Harry over to the couch, gently shoving some of the fort out of the way so she could sit down.

“So, how’s your day been?” Harry tried to keep up a smile, but it was harder now that it was just his mother. He’d never been too good at lying to her, despite practice and tons of effort. “Mine was great.”

"You know you don't have to keep anything up." Lily smoothed down his hair.

“I’ve got to try, at least.” He shrugged, playing with a loose thread in the cuff of his sweater. “I mean, I managed just fine with the two headed demon guy and the giant snake. And now I’m all upset over midlife crisis prison man. It doesn’t make sense.”

"The demon guy and the giant snake didn't threaten your family as much as midlife crisis prison man." Lily said gently.

“True.” Harry nodded. “I mean, the snake would have had to literally eat me, and then Hogwarts to get to you guys, and even then, it’d take awhile. And I don’t think snakes are too happy about eating rocks.”

"I'm no expert on giant snakes, but I don't think they can digest rocks." Lily hummed. "But then again, neither can Peter Pettigrew."

“Okay, then we can toss a couple rocks at his face. Best case, they knock him out. Worst case, he tries to digest them and they still knock him out.” Harry grinned. “That’s a good plan. I should ask you for advice more often.”

“What are moms for?” Lily teased gently. “Besides, it isn’t like your dad has any good advice half the time.”

“No way.” Harry shuddered. “I mean, we found out Pettigrew tore open the Fat Lady painting to get into Gryffindor Tower, and his only solution was build a barricade and wait.” Harry carefully left out the fact that he’d joined his father in his muttered renditions of Buddhir Balam for hours on end, trying his best not to stumble over the words. If anyone could have kept them safe, it would be Anjaneyar, so maybe Appa had actually had a good idea too.

“What? No rocks?” Lily shook her head. “See what I mean? Pretty useless.”

“You came up with real science and everything.” Harry nodded.

“Do I get points for that?” She laughed. “We should have a scoreboard.”

“We can hang it up in the kitchen and Anne’ll make it all pretty and sparkly.” Harry grinned. Anne took great joy in making things pink and sparkly, something Snape had no doubt discovered when Harry handed in his summer homework.“We’ll finally have proof that you’re winning.”

“Proof of what?” James thundered down the stairs, loudly enough that it was a miracle that no one woke back up. “Who’s winning?”

“I’m winning, because you didn’t stock up on rocks.” Lily replied seriously.

“What?” James looked to Harry for an explanation, but Harry just shrugged. “Rocks?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just remember that I’m in the lead.” Lily patted the couch beside her.

“As always.” James sat down beside her. “You’ve been in the lead since ‘71, so there’s no point in me trying to catch up.”

“Glad we agree.” Lily knocked her foot against his.

“I’m glad we do too.” James nodded, throwing an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. “Makes things a little easier.”

“I’m never coming over ever when I’m old and seeing you guys is optional.” Harry grimaced. “I hope you know that.”

“Seeing us is never going to be optional.” James chuckled. “We’ll send Anne and the boys after you if you even try.”

“Plus you wouldn’t want to make Matt upset, would you?” Lily tapped Harry’s nose.

“No.” Harry said grudgingly, because of course he wouldn’t want Matt to be upset because of him. “I guess I won’t avoid you forever, then.”

“Well that’s good.” Lily hummed. “I think we’d get lonely.”

“You’ve got replacements, so you wouldn’t be too lonely.” Harry shrugged. “I mean, none of them are as good at jokes or as cool. You guys kind of dropped the ball.”

“I guess we didn’t have time to drop the ball with you.” James shrugged. “Imagine if you’d come along later-- we might have a Hufflepuff on our hands.”

“Oh, don’t say that.” Lily tapped the back of her hand against her husband’s shoulder. “Harry would have made a great Hufflepuff.”

“The Hat did say I was loyal and kind.” Harry nodded. “Suppose I would have done alright.”

“Where was that on Saturday?” James rolled his eyes. “Loyal and kind, my arse.”

“What happened on Saturday?” Lily frowned.

“Your son walked into my office and yelled at me for a solid fifteen--”

“Five, Appa. Just five.” Harry frowned.

“Ten--”

“Five.”

“Five minutes about how I’m paranoid and mean for not letting him go to Hosgmeade, and less than forty-eight hours later, Peter breaks into Hogwarts.” James frowned. “Who’s winning now?”

“I think we might have to give Appa some points, sweetheart. What do you say?” Lily asked Harry.

“He can have two.” Harry nodded resolutely. “I guess I’m in third.”

“Fifth, actually.” James spoke up. “Sarah and Anne have both informed me that they ‘called you being mean from a thousand billion miles away’, and Sarah then got herself extra points by informing us all that thousand billion is not a real number.”

“Wouldn’t that just be in the trillions somewhere?” Lily asked.

“All that matters is that our nine year old told me off for using fake numbers and I couldn’t stop her, really.” James sighed, shaking his head. “The end is coming.”

“Don’t worry.” Harry grinned. “After your inevitable fall from grace, you’ll still be ahead of Drew.”

“Keep that up and he might pass you.” Lily warned lightly.

“Darn.” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I guess it is just me against the world.”

“To be fair, it isn’t the entire world fighting you.” James chuckled. “Just a weird two headed guy, a giant, now dead snake and a guy whose idea of a midlife crisis was breaking out of prison.”

“See, that’s exactly what I said.” Harry looked to Lily.

“And you think you’ll win, someday.” James shook his head. “We’re both screwed, buddy.”

“We’re all screwed if we don’t get some sleep.” Lily sighed. “C’mon, boys.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. The thought of being alone, especially right now, terrified him. There were less dementors around here, for sure, but Peter Pettigrew could be lurking in any dark corner, and that was more than scary enough. Someone who could slash a painting open to get what he wanted would hardly pause at killing people to get what he wanted. “Do you mind if I stay with you guys tonight?” That came off as a little too babyish for someone who was thirteen whole years old, so Harry tried again, with what he thought was a far more adult line of reasoning. “Someone’s gotta watch out for possible problems and all, and you two need your sleep."

“We’ll be dead before morning.” James said cheerfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sriram and I love hearing your feedback! Leave a comment, or send us asks on tumblr at [ yamibakuraofficial (Lai) ](yamibakuraofficial.tumblr.com) or [desiprongspotter (Sriram)](desiprongspotter.tumblr.com)!


	6. Game Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver barged into the Thursday night training session, the last before Saturday morning’s game, absolutely furious. “They changed the game!” He roared. “We’re playing Hufflepuff instead!”

It was like last year all over again, when Harry returned to school, except, instead of a murderous snake, there was a murderous middle aged man on the loose. Everyone was frightened, looking at Harry like he might explode, and after a few seconds of confusion, he’d realized that people had very much noticed that he’d been gone. It had taken the staff the whole of Monday to ascertain that Pettigrew was nowhere in or near the school, and apparently Harry’s absence had been keenly felt by his classmates.

As if to disprove that thought, people cast suspicious glances at Harry all through the week, and he wouldn’t have minded the attention were it not for the strange tall tales being told about Pettigrew. A few of the Hufflepuffs were insisting on the fact that he’d snuck in with the latest shipment of plants to Professor Sprout’s greenhouses, which made Herbology even more terrifying than usual.

The worst of the stories were the ones that questioned his father’s connection to Pettigrew, and Harry had nearly gotten in a fight with a Slytherin that claimed that Pettigrew couldn’t have gotten in without inside help, and her mother had said that James Potter and Peter Pettigrew had been the best of friends at school.

“My father wouldn’t have!” Harry’d said, practically screaming, as Ron dragged him away from Tracey Davis, who was smirking. “He was with me the whole time!”

“Was he, Potter?” Davis yelled. “We can’t trust people like you, everyone knows it!”

“Harry, calm down.” Ron said. “You’re only making it worse.”

“Just shut up, Ron.” Harry said, pulling free of his friend’s grip before rubbing at his temples. “Leave it.”

“At least you’re playing Slytherin this week, right? You can fight back on the pitch.” Ron suggested.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, sighing tiredly. Playing Slytherin would finally give him a chance to get rid of the anger that had been building in the pit of his stomach since Halloween.

Despite the steadily worsening weather, the team would play perfectly. Angelina, Alicia and Katie would score constantly, Fred and George would hit every Bludger, Oliver would save as many goals as he could, and Harry would catch the Snitch. It would be a textbook win, and they’d been training for it for weeks, perfecting every play and every move until victory was guaranteed.

But even that was not to be. Oliver barged into the Thursday night training session, the last before Saturday morning’s game, absolutely furious.

“They changed the game!” He roared. “We’re playing Hufflepuff instead!”

“Why?” The team all yelled angrily. Harry balled his hands into fists, eyebrows furrowing in anger. How could they do this? They weren’t allowed to switch opponents the night before the match, that would be absolutely absurd.

“They’re claiming something’s still the matter with Malfoy’s arm- say it’ll impair his performance.” Oliver ran a hand through his hair as he began pacing to and fro.

“There’s nothing wrong with Malfoy’s arm!” Harry yelled. “He’s faking it!”

“But we can’t prove that.” Oliver pointed out. “This is a disaster. We’ve been practicing to play against Slytherin, not the Hufflepuffs! And they’ve got this new captain, Diggory…”

“Oh, I’ve seen the bloke.” George nodded. “That tall guy, right?”

“Strong and silent!” Angelina said, prompting a round of giggles from her fellow Chasers.

“Why are you laughing?!” He shouted. “We’re done for! Don’t you understand the gravity of this situation?!”

“Oh, Ollie, calm down.” Fred said, snickering. “The only reason he’s so quiet is because he can’t string two words together properly. Hufflepuff’ll be an easy win compared to Slytherin. Last time we played, Harry beat them in five minutes, right?”

“We weren’t playing them in this weather before!” A crash of thunder echoed his words, as though to prove his point. “Now they’ve got a better seeker, and he’s completely redone their team! They’re loads better now and we don’t even have the advantage of knowing their strategy! Slytherin knows that- they’re trying to mess our season up!”

“Ollie, calm down.” Fred said, sounding a little scared this time. “We’re taking them quite seriously. Aren’t we?”

The rest of the team, Harry included, murmured their assent, although Harry was sure everyone would have been at least ten times more serious if they’d been playing Slytherin tomorrow, as they’d been prepared for.

The day before the match, the weather was worse than ever, the wind howling loudly as rain fell harder than ever. Extra torches and lanterns were lit all over the school, and even that did very little to keep the darkness at bay. Harry was feeling more and more discouraged with every passing second, and as usual, Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team were doing absolutely nothing to help.

“If only my arm were doing better.” Malfoy sighed loudly. “I would just love to be playing in this weather.”

Harry knew that getting upset would only make things worse, but he couldn’t help it. Malfoy had cheated his way out of a tough situation once again, and left everyone else to suffer because he was an absolute duffer who couldn’t face any sort of consequences to his actions. But, thankfully, by Friday afternoon, the dark mood had been replaced  by rising annoyance toward his own team.

Oliver had tried to stop him no less than three times to give him tips about how to beat Diggory, which was more a constant reminder that Diggory was smarter, stronger, taller and faster than him than any help, and, the third time, Harry began running as soon as he heard Oliver calling his name. In any case, he was already late to Defense, and ran to join Ron and Hermione.

“Sorry I’m late.” Harry said breathlessly, sliding into his seat. “Oliver caught me in the hallway.”

“Fred and George were complaining that he keeps stopping them too. Is that idiot even going to class?” Ron frowned.

“Dunno.” Harry shrugged. “He wants a win more than everyone else, and we want it pretty bad.”

“Hello students.” Snape’s voice suddenly spoke up from the front of the room.

Harry blinked in disbelief. Snape teaching Defense?

“If you’re quite finished speaking to your friends, some of us are here to get an education, Mr. Potter.”

“Where’s Professor Potter?” Harry asked, still feeling odd about referring to his father as a teacher.

“It seems Professor Potter has decided he would rather stay home today. I suppose he doesn’t trust his wife enough to let her take care of a few sick children. Five points from Gryffindor for unnecessary questions.”

“It seems your professor failed to leave any sort of lesson plan. How… irresponsible. Certainly this isn’t any way to run a class.” Snape sniffed.

“We learned about Boggarts last, and he’s doing a mostly animal based syllabus this year because most of us have signed up for Care of Magical Creatures, Professor.” Hermione spoke up. “We’re just about to start--”

“I don’t recall asking you, Miss Granger.”

“He’s the best Defense teacher ever.” said Dean Thomas, earning murmurs of approval from the other students.

“It seems I was mistaken.” Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you truly so easily satisfied by idiotic ramblings on such simple topics? I had hoped for my students to be better than that. But with Professor Potter as your teacher I suppose I should have set the bar lower. No. Today we’ll be learning about werewolves.”

“But sir!” Hermione called out, waving her hand wildly. “We haven’t even gotten through the first part of the book! Why are you choosing a topic from the back!”

“I am the one teaching the lesson here. I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Now turn to page 394.”

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes, as he turned to the page specified. Snape sounded like a whiny baby, and Harry had seen plenty of those in his life. His classmates seemed equally impressed by their professor’s display of maturity, grumbling sullenly as they cracked open their books.

“Who can tell me how to distinguish between wolves and werewolves?” Snape intoned.

Everyone stayed perfectly silent and still, save for Hermione, who waved her hand in the air. Harry didn’t understand how or why his friend seemed to miss the fact that Snape wouldn’t ever call on her, or why she kept answering questions despite the air of animosity every question was laced with, but Hermione would be strange any other way.

“No one…?” Snape walked between the desks, eyes sweeping threatening ver the rows of students. “Does Potter teach you nothing in this class?”

“We haven’t got as far as identifying werewolves yet!” Parvati said, looking quite incensed. “How would we know anything if we haven’t even studied that yet?”

“Silence.” He snapped. “I’m ashamed of all of you. Perhaps I might excuse such idiocy if you were all first years, but this is simply ridiculous. Dumbledore will be quite interested in this, I’m sure.”

“Sir, I know!” Hermione called out, still waving her hand about as if Snape would pick her if she got his attention. She seemed physically unable to keep herself from giving the answer, feet tapping loudly against the floor. “The snout of the werewolf--”

“Five points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger being an insufferable know-it-all.” Snape glared down at the girl.

Hermione looked near tears as she put her hand down, staring pointedly at the floor as if that would stop her from crying. One hardly needed proof of how much the class despised Snape beyond the fact that they were all glaring at him, because most of them called Hermione a know-it-all on a weekly basis. Ron, who called Hermione a know-it-all twice daily at least, was redder in the face and ears than Harry had ever seen him before.

“What’s your problem?!” He demanded. “You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Don’t ask it if you don’t want us to respond!”

“Detention, Weasley.” He said, ignoring the outburst. “I don’t suggest a repeat performance.”

No one spoke for the rest of the hour, scribbling down notes as Snape droned on and on. Harry, to his credit, managed to draw several explicit death scenes with Snape as the victim using only alphabet letters, which he hid with the sleeve of his robes whenever the professor walked by.

And even the bell ringing wasn’t enough to save them.

“I want an essay from each of you on how to recognize and kill werewolves. Two rolls of parchment to be handed in to me by monday. It’s time someone actually taught this class. Weasley, stay behind. I’d like to have a word with you.”

Harry and Hermione left the room, Harry sticking close to his still obviously upset friend, and waited until they were out of the room before launching into a tirade.

“What’s Snape’s problem?” Harry grumbled. “He’s got it out for my dad for some reason, and even more so for Uncle Remus. It’s almost like he wants to eat him or kill him or something.”

“I don’t know.” Hermione said quietly. “Hopefully Professor Potter’s back soon.”

Ron caught up with them a few minutes later, fuming still.

“He’s making me clean bedpans! Without any magic! This is ridiculous- why couldn’t Pettigrew have killed him, huh?!”

* * *

Harry woke early the next morning, so early that it was still dark outside, and crept down to the Common Room.

According to the clock there, it was half past four, and Harry knew by the sinking feeling in his stomach that he would not be getting any more sleep. The roaring of the wind was louder than ever, rain pelting loudly against all the windows, and Harry curled up in a chair close to the fire. In a few hours, he’d be out on the field, trying to spot the Snitch, already small and hard to spot, in this torrential downpour. He couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be, especially up against Diggory, and hoped that the Chasers could come up with a lead wider than 15 goals-- it was the only way Gryffindor was going to make it close to a win.

After awhile, Harry gave up hope and went back upstairs to grab his broom and change into his uniform, leaving the warmth of Gryffindor Tower to venture further into the school and down to the Quidditch Pitch.

Oliver seemed to have worked himself into quite the panic, and was pacing frantically. “This is a disaster! We’re doomed!”

“Oh come off it, Oliver.” Alicia sighed. “We can play in a bit of rain. It won’t be too bad.”

Harry snorted. This was as close to a bit of rain as an elephant was to an ant. But he knew that the match wouldn’t be cancelled on account of rain-- no, Hogwarts was far too excited about Quidditch for that. Nearly the whole school turned up for matches, no matter how insignificant, and, despite the weather, that was still true today.

“Hope you lose, Potter.” Malfoy suddenly shouted.

Harry glared at Malfoy, who was huddled under a large umbrella with Crabbe and Goyle, laughing and pointing at him from their comfortable spot in the stadium. They were nice and warm only because Malfoy was a coward.

The wind was so strong that the Gryffindor team was nearly knocked over as they walked onto the pitch, and Harry stumbled a few times before Fred reached out to steady him. Rain was splattering against Harry’s glasses, clouding his already horrible vision. How was he going to find the Snitch like this?

The Hufflepuff team was approaching through the rain, but it took several moments for their forms to be clear through the torrential downpour. They were all wearing bright yellow robes and clutching their brooms tightly, lest they be ripped away by the wind. Diggory, a tall, thin boy, was at the front of the group. He looked incredibly cheerful despite the weather, and his teammates seemed to share the sentiment.

“Mount your brooms!” Madame Hooch screamed through the wind.

Harry, who couldn’t hear a word she was saying and assumed she’d said to start, clambered onto his broom, his feet squelching loudly in the mud. Thankfully, he heard the whistle blow and shot into the air, swerving slightly to the left as the wind battered his broom. He tried to hold it steady, squinting as he tried to spot the flash of gold that meant the Snitch was nearby, but within a few minutes, he was soaked to the bone, annoyed and half frozen, which was hardly a good combination if you were expected to win a game.

He flew back and forth across the pitch, everything a blur of red and yellow, and barely avoided a few Bludgers that were sent rocketing straight at him. He had no idea what was happening-- even Lee’s commentary was inaudible over the sound of the wind, and the crowd was hidden under cloaks and umbrellas, their faces and voices blurry.

The sky was getting darker and darker, and suddenly, it all lit up as lightning flashed dangerously close by. Madam Hooch’s whistle, usually loud enough to hurt Harry’s ears, was barely audible over the storm, and he saw Wood waving at him from the ground. Harry touched down a few seconds later, trying his best to slog through the mud toward his team, and made the absolutely horrible decision to wipe his wet glasses on his wet Quidditch robes.

“We called for timeout.” Oliver called, waving Harry closer. “Get under the umbrella.”

Harry gratefully hurried under the umbrella. “What’s the score?”

“We’re fifty up, but we need to catch the snitch soon. Otherwise we’ll be playing till night.”

“I’ve got no chance, with these on.” Harry held up his glasses, which were now entirely foggy. “Can’t see at all.”

At that very moment, as if his declaration had summoned her to his side, Hermione tapped his shoulder, holding out her hand. “Harry! I’ve got an idea! Give me your glasses!”

Harry handed over his glasses hesitantly, slightly worried about what would happen. Hermione’s ideas were brilliant, and nearly always perfect, but she had accidentally turned herself into a cat once.

“Impervius!” Hermione said, tapping the lenses with her wand, and handed them back to Harry. “They’ll repel water now.”

“I could kiss you!” Oliver exclaimed, then frowned. “If I were single. And you weren’t so young.”

Harry was still numb and cold, but being able to see changed the game entirely. Full of fresh energy, he guided his broom back into the air and circled the pitch looking for the Snitch, occasionally casting a glance in Diggory’s direction to make sure he hadn’t spotted anything. Diggory swung left suddenly, and Harry followed him, hoping he could reach the Snitch first.

There was a clap of thunder, followed immediately by lightning, even closer than the last strike. This was getting more and more dangerous as time went on. Harry had to end it now, one way or the other.

Harry wheeled about, intending to head back toward the middle of the field, and his hands slipped off the broom’s handle, dropping him a few feet.

“Harry! BEHIND YOU!” Oliver suddenly screamed.

Harry looked wildly around before he spotted Diggory speeding up the field, a tiny speck of gold in front of him. Panicked, Harry leaned so far forward that he was nearly horizontal and sped toward the Snitch, hoping that he’d reach it first. Their lead wasn’t enough to allow a win even if Hufflepuff caught the Snitch, and a loss now would be devastating.

But something odd was happening-- the stadium had fallen silent, and the wind’s roar was growing weaker and weaker. It was as though someone had simply turned off the sound, leaving the scene to play out in silence.  And then, a horrible and unfortunately familiar wave of cold swept over him, just as he became aware of movement down below.

And then Harry Potter made the worst choice he’d made all game.

He took his eyes off the Snitch and looked down.

At least a hundred dementors were on the field, their cloaked faces pointing up at him. It was though all the freezing rain had soaked through his skin and was turning his insides to ice. And then he heard the screaming, his mother screaming again, inside his head--

_“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”_

_“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…”_

_“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead--”_

Why was she so upset? Why did she think she was being murdered? She was probably just fine at home, and he doubted his sisters would stoop to killing someone else to further their feud. Yes, Mum was probably completely fine. His thoughts turned to sludge, as if someone had frozen them too, and he felt as if he were falling through the sky all of a sudden.

_“Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy…”_

There was a shrill, grating laugh, and his mother screamed louder just as everything went black

* * *

Harry could hear someone talking, but the words, although familiar, made no sense whatsoever. What had happened? He remembered falling, falling for quite a bit, but nothing beyond that. And then suddenly, he remembered the dementors crowding the field and the frozen feeling in his chest, and started awake, sitting straight up as he opened his eyes. “What happened?”

Lily’s words immediately cut off as she leaned forward. Her hands gripped either side of Harry’s face, swiping her thumbs across the dark circles under his eyes as if wiping away tears. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!” She exclaimed.

“I didn’t mean to.” Harry shrugged, sounding more tired than disobedient. All of that practice, all of that planning for nothing. The team wasn’t there, so Harry could only assume they’d lost. He’d lost a Quidditch game, for the first time since he’d joined the team. Wood was going to kick him off for sure. “I really didn’t.”

Lily let out a soft sigh. “I know you didn’t, sweetheart. No one knew what the dementors were doing.” She pulled a hand back in order to pinch the bridge of her nose, before dropping it into her lap. “Are you feeling alright? Should I get Madame Pomfrey?”

“I’m alright.” Harry shrugged. His arms and legs hurt, as if they’d been hit repeatedly with large hammers. His skin felt thick and far too warm, a good sign that he’d probably bruised all over. “Feels like I took a pretty solid fall, though.”

“What’s the matter, Harry?”

“I don’t know how to ask, but…” Harry trailed off, staring intently at his fingers. His stomach was churning, and he felt as though he’d vomit if he held in his thoughts any longer. “I don’t know if it’s a memory, or something the dementors have just stuck in my head, but whenever they’re close by, I hear something.”

Lily nodded calmly. “They have a way of doing that. Make you reliving some of your worst memories. What do you hear?” She could only fear the worst. Harry had already faced off forms of Voldemort two times, and he was only thirteen.

“You’re screaming. A lot.” Harry said bluntly, because he wasn’t sure how, or even if, he could put it more nicely. He chewed on his bottom lip for a second before continuing. “Uh, there’s someone else there. And I’m there too. And you’re screaming about how you don’t want it to be me and mercy and the other person does some weird, screechy laughing. I don’t know if it’s real or just in my head, but I keep hearing it and it’s just… Horrible, really.”

Lily’s other hand dropped on top of Harry’s and she squeezed it gently. Her expression had turned grave. “You were a baby. I didn’t think you’d remember that. Even with the dementors…”

“So it’s real, then?” Harry looked to his mother, panicked. His heart felt like it would beat straight out of his chest. “I figured it was just something I’d come up with, since the dementors didn’t go for the snake or Quirrell or anything.”

“You’ve heard the stories about how your father… pretty much defeated Voldemort.” Lily snorted. “It’s why we can’t stand Halloween.”

“Well, I guess baby me had the right idea, getting rid of that memory.” Harry chuckled weakly. “Unfortunately, the dementors don’t seem to think so. I dunno, maybe I’m just old enough to join the club.”

“Maybe.” Lily reached out to smooth down Harry’s hair. “But it’s a club I wish you didn’t have to be part of.”

“Me either, really.” Harry sighed. “Want to let me in on anything else before Satan in a towel gives me some new memories?”

Lily made a hesitant face. “Your broom…” She sighed. “It flew into the Whomping Willow.”

“Oh.” Harry’s face fell. Sirius had given him that broom as a child, and it was the first broom he’d ever ridden. He knew enough about the Whomping Willow to know that he’d never get to ride it again. “That’s not good.”

“We can buy you a new one.” Lily said. “You can pick it out yourself, if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay.” Harry shook his head. “I’m not sure how excited Oliver is to have me on the team, after that great of a performance.”

“Oliver seems a bit full of himself. Or maybe just full of quidditch.” Lily hummed. “Reminds me of your father when he was that age, a bit. Besides, what happened wasn’t your fault, or anyone else’s. He can’t blame you for that.”

“Of course he won’t.” Harry said, nodding, but felt no better.


	7. The Marauders' Map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why won’t you let anyone else near this map except for Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius, huh? Especially if it’s so useful and you could use it to find out where Pettigrew was!” Harry raged, spotting a worn out piece of parchment on his father’s desk. “You’re hiding something useful in plain sight! They’d be able to catch him if you just cooperated--”
> 
> “No, they wouldn’t.” James cut Harry off. “They wouldn’t be able to find Peter unless he wants them to. Useful talent of his.”

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry under observation until Monday morning, which made for quite a dull weekend. Harry was quite gloomy, although he didn’t argue or complain about his lot-- he felt like he’d lost a bit of his childhood to the Whomping Willow, although he knew that that was hardly true. The broom was beyond repair, and that was it. He’d borrow one from the school to finish the semester out, and Appa would likely find some reason to get him a new one for Christmas.

To break up the monotony of his stay, his parents had brought Harry cards from all of his siblings.

Drew’s had lots of bright colors, though Harry wasn’t quite sure what they were supposed to be. Anne’s was pink and sparkly, and she had drawn a picture of Harry kicking a large grey blob that was supposed to represent a dementor. Matt, in lieu of drawing, had had James help him write out a very long and thoughtful letter, and signed it himself.

Sarah had simply drawn a surprisingly detailed picture of him falling off the broom and written “glue yourself to it next time” below it in unnecessarily glittery letters. Although the advice was quite rude, there was some truth in it. Perhaps Quidditch would be easier if he glued himself to his broom. Although, he thought, as he looked out the window at the Whomping Willow, it would be a little more likely to be fatal.

Thankfully, his friends were a little kinder about their attempts to make him feel better, and Harry’s day was quite improved by the strange looking flowers a blushing Ginny Weasley had given him. They looked very much like yellow cabbages, and although Harry did not like cabbages, he was quite fond of the color yellow, so he kept them by his bedside, using the glass they were in to keep Ginny’s get well card, which was prone to singing, silent.

Ron and Hermione hardly ever left his bedside, constantly engaging him in conversation, and even Oliver Wood stopped by, early Sunday morning, to tell Harry he was quite proud of him and didn’t blame him at all. But even Oliver’s words couldn’t make Harry feel any better, and he grew less interested in his visitors as the weekend wore on. The fact that he couldn’t tell Ron and Hermione about how deeply the dementors affected him only made this fact worse, as they both immediately assumed that he was upset about Quidditch.

And he was-- he was upset to have lost and disappointed in himself for ensuring the loss, but it was more how he had lost that he was upset about than the fact that he had. And the only way to keep himself from losing again was to keep himself from reacting to the dementors as he had. But how could he do that when he couldn’t stop hearing that same memory played over and over again in his head when he slept, interrupted only by the sight cold, rotting hands reaching for him.

It was a relief to return to school on Monday, and Harry chuckled to himself as he realized that he’d not been this genuinely excited for school in quite awhile. He would even do Snape’s Defense class all over again, if he had to, to keep himself out of the Hospital Wing. Staying there only made him dwell on all the things that were wrong, and there were more than enough of those things to keep Harry dwelling forever. Besides, a fifty foot fall was much more severe than a cut on the arm, and someone had to show Draco Malfoy that the end to his act was long overdue.

But Malfoy had abandoned his act, instead taking the opportunity to be gleeful over Gryffindor’s loss. His bandages were finally gone, and he was celebrating the full use of both his arms by quite enthusiastically demonstrating how Harry had fallen off his broom, much to Ron and Hermione’s dismay. Harry didn’t care one way or another, or at least he was trying to convince himself he didn’t, as Malfoy’s spirited dementor impressions made him jump in his seat at least once.

Ron finally cracked, during Potions, and flung a crocodile heart right into Malfoy’s face, losing fifty points for Gryffindor.

“If Snape is teaching Care of Magical Creatures, I’m going to let the flobberworms eat me.” Ron muttered darkly.

“Don’t forget, we have the werewolf essay due.” Hermione said, looking quite disgruntled. “I can’t believe he’d assign homework like that, and to be turned into him so Professor Potter doesn’t find out.”

“Oh, he knows.” Harry said, having caught only the last few words. “And I’m not doing it in protest.”

“What’s got you three looking so glum?” Remus Lupin asked, joining them on their walk down to the grounds. “Snape got your tongue?” He looked quite proud of his joke, and Harry hadn’t the heart to tell him that it was absolutely horrible.

“You bet he does!” Ron said. “He assigned an essay on werewolves- two whole rolls of parchment, and it’s due to him by tonight. It’s not fair.”

“Did you tell Professor Snape that you hadn’t covered those yet?” Remus frowned, looking to Harry, who nodded. “Don’t do the essay. I’ll talk to James and we’ll set him straight.”

Ron continued his rant about their potions professor, citing his greasy hair and favoritism as often as possible.

“Harry, one second.” Remus called out, as Ron and Hermione started running ahead toward Hagrid and the mass of students waiting by him. “I’d like a word.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, trying to sound excited. “Rough week?”

“I’m back and all in one piece.” Remus smiled ruefully. “A happy surprise, every time.”

“The best one.” Harry said, nudging his uncle with his elbow.

“I heard about your broom. It can’t be fixed, can it? After the Willow.” Remus trailed off, looking quite apologetic. “You know why the tree was planted, I gather. And people have often got on the wrong side of it. Davey Gudgeon lost an eye.”

Harry hadn’t the faintest clue who Davey Gudgeon was, but he was willing to sympathize with anyone who’d lost a fight with that tree.

“Did you hear about the dementors too?” Harry asked, summoning up all his courage. If he could talk to anyone honestly about this, it would be his mother or Remus, hands down. And Remus would understand just as well as she did. “And, uh, how they affect me.”

“You’ve seen things far beyond what a thirteen year old should see, Harry. And of course a monster that lives on fear would pick a boy who’s seen a lot of fearful things to affect. It’s hardly your fault.” Remus placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, smiling brightly. Harry was struck again by how much older Remus looked than his own father, who was hardly two weeks younger. “Dementors are foul, evil beings, and they drain every happy thing out of a person that they can, leaving their victims with nothing more than the worst horrors they’ve ever experienced. And the things that you’ve seen in your thirteen years would make even the best of wizards fall off a broom ten thousand times.”

“Thanks, Uncle Remus.” Harry smiled softly, feeling a little lighter. “I needed that.”

“Come by my office this weekend, during the Hosgmeade visit.” Remus ruffled Harry’s hair. “I’ll show you how to fight them. It’s going to be hard, but I’ve got a good feeling about you pulling it off.”

“You will?” Harry asked hopefully, and that single act seemed to harden Remus’ resolve.

“Of course. Saturday night. I’ll see you there?” Remus asked, waiting for Harry’s nod before running ahead to stand by Hagrid’s side. Harry made his way over a little slower, enjoying the sunshine, before picking a spot next to Ron and Hermione at the Flobberworm boxes.

“What’d he say?” Ron asked, looking at Harry. “You look happier.”

“I’ve got something fun planned for the weekend.” Harry said brightly.

* * *

Remus’ offer seemed to be a turning point for Harry, as everything suddenly seemed to be coming up his way. Ravenclaw absolutely flattened Hufflepuff, putting Gryffindor back into the running as long as Harry didn’t lose another game. And that loss had only inspired him to work harder, borrowing school brooms in nearly every free minute he had. Between his newly re-energized work ethic, the approaching winter break and the promise of a way to fight the dementors this weekend, Harry could think of nothing that would bring him down.

And, with that thought in mind, he marched into Remus Lupin’s office on Saturday afternoon, head held high. Remus’ office was a fair bit smaller than his father’s and stacks of books and empty terrariums stood nearly as tall as the ceiling in some places. Harry was quite afraid that one would simply fall over and make the entire office a safety hazard, but his uncle seemed to pay it no mind, smiling happily as he looked around the room. Despite looking disorganized at first, the chaos of the room had a certain logic to it, much like the sections of his Uncle Sirius' flat that Uncle Remus frequented. If a whirlwind had passed through this room, it had quite a talent for ordering things.

“We were all surprised, Harry, when your boggart was what it was.” Remus said, as he lugged a large trunk out of a closet. The trunk seemed to be rattling loudly, as the wardrobe in the staff room had, and Harry grinned. A Boggart. Brilliant! “We were expecting something much different.”

“Voldemort, you mean.” Harry said flatly. “Yeah, I figured. I mean, you’d think I’d be scared of him most.”

“The fact that your boggart is a dementor suggests that what you fear most is just that. Fear.” Remus nodded. “A good thing, considering what’s happening now.”

“Yeah, really.” Harry said, nodding. “Right, so what’s this thing you’re teaching me?”

“You can’t tell anyone that I’m teaching you this, alright? This charm is highly advanced magic-- far beyond Ordinary Wizarding Levels, in fact. It’s called the Patronus charm.”

Harry fidgeted nervously. Beyond Ordinary Wizarding Levels? He was a third year, and if the magic in question was beyond fifth year level, then how would he be able to do it? Remus obviously had a tremendous amount of faith in him, and Harry had no idea how to tell Remus that he would almost certainly let him down.  

“How does it work?” He asked, hoping that the mechanics, at least, were simple.

“When it works correctly, you conjure up a Patronus, which is a sort of shield against the dementors. It’s a projection of purely positive energy, a shield built out of the very thing dementors feed on, and because it’s just a shield, it can’t feel despair, so the dementors can’t feed. It is very advanced, and many wizards have quite a bit of trouble with it. So don’t get upset if you can’t produce one just yet.”

“How will I know? That I got it right, I mean.” Harry asked.

“Depends on you, Harry.” Remus said, with a grin. “Patronuses are unique to the wizards that conjure them.”

“And how do I do that?”

“With an incantation, Expecto Patronum, which works only when you are concentrating only on a single, very happy memory. I’ll show you, then you can try it once without the dementor. We’ll move on from there.” Remus’ brow furrowed for a second, before he waved his wand. “Expecto Patronum!” A silvery wolf burst forth from the end of his wand, pacing around the room in mid air before returning to Remus’ side.

“Whoa.” Harry said in awe, then frowned, wondering what memory qualified most as very happy. He wanted a cool animal to come out of his wand, and thankfully, he had no shortage of happy memories. What bothered him was that Remus had said that the incantation worked only if the memory was perfect, so he had to find the best one. Eventually, he settled on one of his earliest memories-- the triplets’ first birthday. He’d shoved Drew’s face in the cake, which Harry still privately suspected that Drew hated him for. Hopefully he’d forgotten.

That was the first time he’d really felt like an older brother, like he was responsible for his siblings and how they turned out, mostly because Matt had ended up almost eating the cord on the Christmas lights, and Harry had been the one to stop him. He’d felt like a bit of a hero, more so than he had any time in the last two years, which was interesting considering Voldemort was a bigger deal than a plug.

“I’m ready.” He said, concentrating as hard as he could on the memory. “Expecto Patro--  Expecto Patrono-- Expecto Patronum!”

Something silvery burst out of the end of his wand, more a puff of silvery gas than anything else, and Harry gleefully looked to Remus. “I did it!”

“Very good!” Remus looked quite proud, before pointing his wand at the trunk. “Are you ready to do it with the dementor?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Harry brought the memory to the forefront of his mind again, concentrating as hard as he could on that, but fear crept in anyways, reminding him that he’d hear his mother screaming again if he failed, which he absolutely would. “Can we do it quick?”

Remus walked over to the trunk, counting to three before he pulled it open. As soon as he did, a dementor flew out of the trunk, turning its head toward Harry. A rotted hand reached forth, the tattered robes covering it slipping away as the hand came closer and closer, and Harry struggled to remember the incantation. The words were slipping away, replaced with the cold feeling that always accompanied the dementor, and the way the lights were flickering around him didn’t help calm Harry at all.

“Expecto patronum!” He called out, the words coming to him all of a sudden. “Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!” But he was too late, and darkness crept in further and further from the edges of his vision, and Harry could feel himself falling--- falling-- He heard his mother screaming as if she was being tortured and he wanted to help, wanted to save her, wanted to--

_“Stand aside, girl! Stand aside!"_

Harry sat up, head spinning, and was comforted slightly by the fact that the classroom lights seemed to be functioning again. Remus looked quite worried, pressing a rather large piece of chocolate into Harry’s hands, and only spoke once Harry had eaten a fairly large piece of it.

“It’s getting worse.” Harry muttered, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. “I don’t know if Mum told you, but I’m hearing her voice and it’s getting all messy in my head and…” He trailed off, looking over at the trunk. “I’d like to try again, if you don’t mind.”

“Finish the chocolate, and then we’ll try.” Remus looked quite pale. “We don’t have to, if you’re feeling uncertain.”

“Me?” Harry said, trying to look jovial. “Uncertain? No way!”

“Pick another memory, perhaps.” Remus said, as soon as Harry could stand up reliably. “The last one probably wasn’t strong enough.”

“Okay.” Harry nodded, searching for a second option. The time Uncle Sirius had lost Sarah in the supermarket wasn’t happy or funny, in retrospect, so that was out. And then, it occurred to him. Why hadn’t he thought of this memory first? It wasn’t one particular memory, more an amalgamation of many, and maybe he could fight Lily Evans’ screams best with a memory of her smiling.

There it was, clear as day in his head-- Harry was halfway in his mother’s lap as they sat on his bed, a mix of unable and unwilling to sleep, as Lily read to him, patting his head intermittently. He couldn’t recall the story, or the particular day any of this was from, but he could clearly remember feeling safe.

“I’ve got the right one.” Harry said, nodding. “Can you open the trunk again?”

“Of course.” Remus said, looking over Harry carefully, before pulling the trunk open again. This time, Harry was ready. He was going to win this, going to create the Patronus and make his parents proud.

But all that resolve melted away, replaced with white fog, as the dementor emerged, gliding closer and closer, and suddenly, another voice joined the fray in his head.

_“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off--”_

Someone was stumbling from a room to the sound of high pitched laughter, and there was a loud thump on the stairs, as if someone had fallen, and a whoosh of air and--

“Harry! Harry, wake up!” Remus was tapping Harry’s face.

“I-- I heard Appa.” Harry said, suddenly realizing there were tears on his face. He bent his head, quickly wiping his face with his sleeve to avoid Remus noticing. “I-- He hadn’t been there before and now he was and-- He tried to take on Voldemort himself?” The last sentence was tinged with disbelief, even though Harry had heard the story so many times before. “He wanted me and Mum to get out. What about him?”

“Anyone who knew him at that age could have told you that it would have been his first choice.” Remus said, ruffling Harry’s hair. “He had a tendency toward putting himself out on the line for others. First for me, then for Sirius... then for Lily, then for you.” Remus seemed about to add another name to the list, between Sirius and Lily, but decided against it. “You’re not having another go tonight, at any rate. We’ll try again next week, if you still want to.”

“What do you think about, when you make your wolf?” Harry asked, hoping for some direction.

“The four of us in our fifth year.” Remus said, before looking as if he’d said something wrong. “The four of us meaning the three Marauders and your mother, of course.”

“I thought you said you weren’t all friends until later.” Harry said, frowning. Uncle Remus was hiding something. A fourth Marauder was impossible-- it was Moony, Padfoot and Prongs in the beginning, and always since then. Or was it really? The photographs at home had always looked a little too small for their frames, as if parts had been cut out, and the three teenagers in them had always seemed to be looking beyond the edge of the photograph when they spoke, as if calling out to someone else. “Who are you talking about?”

“You’ll have to speak to your father.” Remus said, shaking his head. “I’ve said too much.”

“Maybe he’ll tell me the truth.” Harry mumbled, and sped from the room, forgetting entirely to thank Remus for the lesson in his hurry to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

Harry stormed into his father’s office not even ten minutes later, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

They were all lying to him, that much was for sure. Every single one of them. And the only way to find out whether they were lying was in his father’s hands-- the map he’d mentioned on Halloween, which they’d used to find out that Pettigrew was in the school. They’d had a way to know for sure where Pettigrew was all along, and hadn’t used it? That, combined with this mystery fourth Marauder, left things not looking so good for the adults in his life.

“Where’s the map?” Harry asked, wincing at how panicked he sounded, and James stood up, pushing his chair back in before walking around his desk to his son. “I need to know what you’re all hiding!”

“What do you mean, what we’re hiding?” James asked carefully. Harry wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated, no, he was here for answers and he would get them.

“Why won’t you let anyone else near this map except for Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius, huh? Especially if it’s so useful and you could use it to find out where Pettigrew was!” Harry raged, spotting a worn out piece of parchment on his father’s desk. “You’re hiding something useful in plain sight! They’d be able to catch him if you just cooperated--”

“No, they wouldn’t.” James cut Harry off. “They wouldn’t be able to find Peter unless he wants them to. Useful talent of his.”

“You say that like you know him.” Harry scoffed, remembering the outrageous lie that Tracey Davis had tried to tell him. Like his father would have been friends with someone bound for Azkaban. The thought of that was silly. Harry looked to James, waiting for the strong denial that he knew was coming, and heard nothing. James looked away, unable to meet Harry’s eyes, and that only fueled Harry’s anger-- now, his father had not only lied to him, but made him into a liar for his own convenience.

“I thought I did.” James said, picking his words carefully, retreating to his desk to grab the worn out sheet of parchment. It was empty, at the moment, and he drew his wand from where he’d stuck it through his belt loop and tapped it to the surface, murmuring something under his breath before looking to Harry. “We all thought we did. That’s why his name’s on the map too.”

“What do you mean, his name’s on there?” Harry asked, rage building, and blinked in surprise as ink suddenly appeared on the parchment, spelling out words. “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs present The Marauder’s Map. You’re Prongs, Uncle Remus is Moony and Uncle Sirius is Padfoot, so…”

“Peter was Wormtail.” James said, sighing deeply. He looked so helpless, and the anger drained out of Harry like it had been sucked out with a straw. “He was one of us for quite awhile, and then, all of a sudden, he wasn’t.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” Harry asked, wanting desperately for this to be another of his father’s pranks. They had never been this serious before, but there was always room for hope.

“I’ll give you two truths and a lie, then.” James said, smiling weakly. “I was kidding, and your mother is Wormtail. Peter Pettigrew was my friend. Peter Pettigrew is Wormtail.”

“Is that what all that talk about rat hunting’s been about?” Harry asked. “Peter’s a rat then. But rats could be anywhere.”

“He’s not here right now, and that’s all that matters.” James said, unfolding the map so Harry could take a look. Across the parchment was a drawing of Hogwarts, complete with little dots labeled with names moving as the people they were depicting did. The dot labeled Albus Dumbledore was moving back and forth in his office, Hermione’s dot was chasing one labeled Crookshanks, and there, in the Defense Teacher’s Office, were two dots labeled James and Harry Potter. “This shows everyone in Hogwarts right now. Where they are, what direction they’re moving in. Sirius, Remus, Peter and I made this in our fifth year. Lost it to Filch in our seventh, and I took it off his hands a couple years later. Couldn’t let something this valuable waste away in a drawer, right?”

Harry nearly smiled at the way his father’s eyes lit up as he spoke about the map, and he saw him as his mother and uncles might have years ago-- smart, mischievous and daring. This is how he must have been when they first knew him, before Voldemort, before the war. But the light faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the father he knew behind to clutch at the map as if it would give up its secrets if he held on tightly enough.

“Yeah.” Harry said, nodding as his father folded the map up again, tapping it a second time while he mumbled a second, much shorter set of words before shoving it roughly in his pocket. “Couldn’t let that happen.”

They lingered in silence for a few moments, each absorbed in his own set of memories, before Harry spoke up again.

“If he was your friend, why is he after us?” Harry wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to this question, but he knew that having it would be better than nothing at all. Or maybe that was a horrible idea. He really wasn’t sure.

“Peter made some bad choices. We all did. War makes every choice a bad choice, in some way or the other.” James seemed determined to portray Peter in as positive a light as possible, speaking about him as he might about a mischievous child, who’d run off after a temper tantrum and could still be helped. “But he put himself in with the wrong side and sold us out. They caught him for it, after Halloween, and locked him up. And he’s been wanting his revenge ever since, I’d say. There’s a lot about Azkaban that can drive a man mad, and Peter had it harder than most to begin with.”

“He’s the reason the dementors get me this bad, then.” Harry said, heaving a sigh. He knew the basics of his parents’ involvement in the war, through a lot of strategic eavesdropping and pretending he was asleep. A few textbooks had made some mention of them, among other prominent members of the Light Side, but there hadn’t been much to go off of there. First, they had been on the front lines. Then, they had gone into hiding, because of him. And then, someone had forced them out of it. And now, he knew that this someone was Peter Pettigrew. “He told them we were in Godric’s Hollow and then Halloween happened.”

“He was our Secret Keeper.” James nodded, looking quite calm, almost as if he was reciting a speech from memory. “And he gave us up of his own free will. That’s why Halloween’s hard, for your mother and I. Well, mostly for her, really, since she was with you. I at least got to try and finish the job, you know? Gives me some measure of comfort.”

“Why didn’t you pick Uncle Sirius?” His father’s words had brought back the anger rushing through Harry’s veins, but this time, it was not directed at his father. No, it was all directed toward that rat bastard, Peter Pettigrew, who’d dared pretend that he was his friend. For all his disagreements with his father, he was quite a nice person who didn’t really deserve to be betrayed. His father, in contrast, seemed to shrink on himself even as Harry grew angrier, shoulders coming up as he stared resolutely at the floor. “He wouldn’t have turned us over. And we’d have all been fine, then.”

“Sirius was already at risk.” James shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to hurt him. He had enough on his shoulders. Didn’t need our lives on it too. Peter… Peter was the ideal choice. Loyal, dependable, would give his life for any of us. Or so I thought.”

“You thought wrong, I guess.” Harry tried to make it into a joke, but some things are too heavy for humor.

“Yeah.” James said, with a chuckle. “Yeah, I did.”


	8. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “True. I’m gonna be sixty and you’ll show up and be like ‘aww, look at my handsome little boy’. It’ll be weird, since we’ll both be old, but okay.” Harry shrugged. “I’ll find a way to like it.”
> 
> “Well I’m glad you’ve resigned yourself to a lifetime of it, cause I’m here to stay.” Lily said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Hari, trash son of our teenage years. We've got your back, buffalo boy. Keep fighting the good fight. -- Sriram
> 
> Happy birthday to Harry- and may he have a happily ever after no matter what universe we stick him in. -- Lai

“You’ve got your bags?” Harry nodded as soon as James started talking, as if to cut him off. Finding out your father had been best friends with a murderer as a child, despite the fact that said murderer had not really given any indication of growing up to be one at the time, was an awkward affair, and James Potter had made the whole situation a million times worse by trying to pretend nothing odd had been said. Harry wasn’t ready to accept that people could just not realize things like that, so things had been a little strained lately. And there was no way going home would make it any better, but Harry needed a break from the constant gloomy atmosphere of the castle-- a little while away from the dementors was worth spending way more time around his father than he’d like.

“Yeah. Everything’s in here.” Harry said, keeping his eyes trained on the fireplace. “So, do we go now?”

“Yeah, I guess. You first.”

Harry dragged his bag along, tossing the Floo Powder in first before getting into the fireplace. He’d been told switching that order was a horrible thing, and he could understand why, considering fire was a lot more dangerous than it looked. “Potter residence.”

After a few seconds of feeling quite horrible, he was spat out into a familiar living room. “Hey losers, I’m home!”

His words were completely drowned out by several tiny children screaming at the top of their lungs. Drew, it seemed, was covered in what might have been cake batter. He was sprinting after Anne and shouting for a hug, whereas Anne was shrieking at him to stay away. Lily was running after both of them with a towel clutched in one of her hands. “Andrew Potter, stop that right now!”

“Welcome home.” Matt’s voice came from behind the couch, where he had apparently taken refuge.

“Now stop Drew.” Sarah said, trying to pretend she was entirely calm while she stayed perched on top of the couch. She was trying to place herself as far out of Drew’s reach as possible, which would be a great plan if Drew wasn’t eight and aware of how to climb now. “You told him you liked him best and it’s gone to his head.”

“Great, I walk in, and immediately it’s ‘you did this Harry, you left us all to suffer’.” Harry screeched out the last few words, obviously attempting to goad Sarah into getting angry, but she just looked more sullen and kept her place on top of the couch. “Wow, Drew must really have the run of the place if you’re not rising to the challenge.”

“Hari!” Anne threw herself at her eldest brother. “Make him stop!”

“Adi, cut it out!” Harry yelled. “Cake batter is gross and if Mum has to do laundry again, she’ll blame it on you!”

Drew did quite the opposite, and instead flung his arms around Harry (only barely avoiding Anne, who ducked behind her brother at the last second). “Welcome home.” He laughed, obviously pleased with the mess he had successfully covered Harry in.

“Ew.” Matt wrinkled his nose.

“Thanks, mate.” Harry grinned, coating his hand in the cake batter on his shirt before rubbing it all over his little brother’s face. “Nice to be back.”

James Potter chose that moment to come through the Floo, to the sight of two of his children messy already, and groaned. “See, we thought you’d get better when you got older.”

“And we were all wrong.” Sarah said, still precariously perched on top of the couch.

Lily offered the towel to Harry after a moment. “You two need to go get cleaned up. Drew is going to help me clean the kitchen afterwards.”

“But mum, shouldn’t I clean the kitchen and _then_ clean myself?”

“And trail any more of the batter around my house? I don’t think so.” Lily frowned.

“She’s right, you know.” James nodded, ruffling Drew’s hair. Thankfully, his hand came away clean. “Go ahead, get yourself washed up before we get ants everywhere.”

“Ants?” Harry asked, puzzled.

“Anyone who’s the cause gets to eat them, so I suggest running before that has to happen.” James said.

“Drew is gross!” Anne declared. “He’d definitely eat a bug!”

“Would not!” He insisted.

“You have.” James said, pulling a face. “So there’s really no room to argue.”

“Appa…” Drew whined as he pulled away from Harry.

“Go clean up.” Lily ushered the boy to the stairs before turning back to the rest of her family. “Anyone else need a towel?”

“The rest of us didn’t go running right at Drew.” Sarah said, finally climbing down. “So we’re all good.”

“I didn’t either, okay!” Harry said angrily, before trying to get as much of the batter off himself as possible. “It was the other way around!”

“No fighting.” James pointed at Sarah. “We’re all going to be good to each other, alright? No funny business.”

“You’d know _all_ about that.” Harry grumbled, shooting a glare at James, who pretended not to see him.

“He gets away with everything!” Sarah said, turning to Lily. “You saw him, right?”

“I saw two of my kids launch themselves at him, if that’s what you mean.” Lily smiled at her daughter as she placed her hands on her hips.

“No one ever wants to get him in trouble.” Sarah grumbled, frowning. “Harry’s always perfect. Look at him, never ever causing trouble.”

“Well, if you rack up as many detentions as I have, eventually they just start pretending that I’m not doing anything at all.” Harry said cheerfully. “Uncle Remus high fived me before I left because I haven’t done anything sketchy in a whole three months.”

“Three months.” Sarah said, disbelieving. “Really?”

“Really.”

Matt clapped, though he still hadn’t emerged from where he was wedged between the couch and the wall.

“I know. It’s been awful boring, lately.” Harry finished wiping the cake batter off himself and looked to his mother. “Where do you want me to put this? ‘Cause I don’t think it can handle wiping anything else. Ever again.”

“I’ll wash it.” She assured, taking the towel back before leaning down to hug her slightly-sticky son. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

“Thanks Mum.” Harry hugged her as tightly as he could, before pulling away with a grin. “Now you’re messy too.”

“I was going to have to take a shower after cleaning the kitchen anyways.” She sighed.

“Not me.” Anne said. “I’ll hug you after you change.”

“You’re mean, Anju.” Harry stuck his tongue out, before running up the stairs to his room. “I found something cool for you, but I guess I’ll just give it to Sarah!”

“You will not!” Anne called after him, running to stand at the bottom of the stairs. “Sarah doesn’t even like the things I like!”

“It’s true.” Sarah spoke up. “I don’t.”

“Hello, dear.” Lily kissed James on the cheek.

“Hi.” James smiled. “Kids treating you alright?”

“I’ve dealt with worse.” She hummed in response. “How’s Harry doing?”

“Angry at me.” James said, shaking his head. “He knows.”

She pulled back slightly. “You told him?”

“He found out.” James shrugged. “Remus offered to help him with the dementors and everything went south from there.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Please do.” James sighed. “He’s not talking to me beyond what’s required.”

“He’s as stubborn as the two of us put together, when he wants to be.” Lily smiled. “You deal with the kids and the mess in the kitchen, and I’ll go check on him.”

“Gladly.” James pulled her into a hug before checking that Anne and Sarah hadn’t started a fight without them noticing. “Awesome. Who wants to clean with me, kids?”

“Urgent thing. Can’t stay. Love you!” Sarah called out as she ran to the bottom of the stairs, dragging Anne up them behind her.

Matt’s head popped into view over the top of the couch as his sisters disappeared. “I’ll help.”

“I knew I could count on you!” James said, heading for the kitchen. “Come on, let’s take this mess down.”

Lily watched Matt trot after his father before turning to climb the stairs. They creaked beneath her feet as she went, and the faint sounds of Anne and Sarah arguing could be heard as she reached the second floor. Sunlight streamed through the window at the end of the hall, shining through the leaves of a potted plant. It wasn’t exactly in the right place, but Matt had probably pulled it closer to the door that lead to his and Drew’s shared room.

The redhead stopped to knock on Harry’s door. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah!” Harry, who was sitting on the bed, called out. “Come on in!” He’d changed out of his messy clothes, leaving them in a slightly sticky pile on the floor, and, as a result of his brilliant decision to shove his head straight through the collar of the shirt instead of undoing the buttons first, his hair was even wilder than usual.

Lily laughed at the sight before her and stepped closer in order to smooth out her son’s perpetual bedhead. “There’s my handsome boy.”

“Mum, I’m not six anymore.” Harry said, pretending to be grumpy although he was quite pleased. It was hard to get time alone with his mother, especially when all the kids were around and getting into everything. “You don’t have to say that stuff.”

“I’m your mother!” She laughed. “Of course I have to say stuff like that!”

“True. I’m gonna be sixty and you’ll show up and be like ‘aww, look at my handsome little boy’. It’ll be weird, since we’ll both be old, but okay.” Harry shrugged. “I’ll find a way to like it.”

“Well I’m glad you’ve resigned yourself to a lifetime of it, cause I’m here to stay.” Lily said. “Now, is there something you want to talk to me about?”

“Nope.” Harry replied, a little too quickly to be legitimate. “Nothing that I can think of.”

“Really? Because I know when I found out about Peter I was… pretty shocked. And hurt. And your father told me that you found out.” Lily placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m not gonna make you talk to me about anything, sweetheart. But you know I’m here if you need me, right?”

“I know.” Harry nodded. “What really happened? I mean, Appa seemed pretty wrecked, so I wasn’t going to ask him questions. Well, I did anyway, but you know when he does the thing where he answers every single question in the world except the question you asked him? Yeah.”

“You’re going to have to forgive your father. Peter is still a hard subject for him. It is for all of them, I think.” Lily sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed with a thoughtful expression. “Honestly, I didn’t talk to Peter much in school. He was just one of James’ friends, you know? So when he suggested him as a secret keeper, after Sirius said he couldn’t… I trusted his opinion. We all trusted a little too easily, I’m afraid.”

“I mean, there had to be some sign that he’d turn out to be a murderer.” Harry, like all the Potter children, had heard the story of the time his parents and Uncle Remus had to break Uncle Sirius out of jail at least fifty times, and was quite confused about why his uncle seemed to be so proud of it. “There was no way all of you didn’t know, I mean, at least one of you had to have been suspicious.”

“Peter had been friends with your father and your uncles for years. Ever since they started attending Hogwarts they were… inseparable.” Lily sighed, her eyes distant as she thought of years long past. “James and Sirius, they… they love with everything they’ve got. I don’t think they knew what it meant to doubt the people they loved. Remus is infinitely more cautious, but even he agreed that he trusted Peter with his life. I always thought he was a nice boy. A bit shy and nervous, but… nice.”

“Just out of nowhere, he gave us up?” Harry frowned. “Was there a reason or did he just randomly decide that we weren’t worth it? I mean, Appa kept telling me it wasn’t Peter’s fault and that he’d been forced to, but I don’t know how much of that’s real either.” He fidgeted awkwardly, fully aware that doubting his father wasn’t something he should have admitted to aloud. “If anyone’d lie about it, it’d be him.”

Lily laughed, but it was without humor. “He still doesn’t want to believe that Peter cared more about himself than he did about his friends. It’s something that James just can’t understand. I think it’s one of the reasons I love him so much, even if it’s frustrating.” There was a pause as she attempted to collect her thoughts. “A secret keeper can’t give up the secret unwillingly. Peter could only tell if he wanted to. He was a coward, and he thought Voldemort would keep him safe if he gave us up.”

“So he wanted to?” Harry scooted closer to his mother. “I mean, I was a baby and killing babies is super not okay.”

“Very super not okay.” Lily agreed. “Peter wasn’t as happy about being an uncle as Sirius and Remus. I always thought it was just the war taking a toll on him. I thought he was just scared to get attached to you. We were targets. There was always a chance we’d die.”

“But you didn’t.” Harry said, resting his head against Lily’s shoulder. “So that’s good.”

Lily wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Of course we didn’t. We had a baby to take care of. Without us, what would you have done? Gone to live with Petunia?” She laughed.

“No thanks.” Harry said, shaking his head rapidly. “Really, no thanks. Can you imagine? I’d have turned out like Dudley. Not that Dudley’s all that bad. I mean, he is, but he’s my cousin and all, so I can’t say it to his face. But his face isn’t here, so I guess he sucks.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Lily let out another laugh, though it sounded much happier than the last few.

“Is Appa mad at me?” Harry asked, after a few seconds’ pause. “Because he looks like it, but he’s not telling me either way.”

“I think Appa thinks you’re mad at him.” Lily said.

“That’s so weird.” Harry said, looking quite confused. “I’m not mad at him anymore, at least. I did yell at him a bit when he was sad, which was a little mean of me. And then I walked out on him. I was pretty mean, actually, never mind.”

“And aren’t you supposed to apologize when you do something mean?” Lily hummed.

“Yes?” Harry asked, looking to Lily for confirmation.

“Well, last I checked, Appa was down in the kitchen with Mattie.” Lily smiled at Harry.

“Okay.” Harry grabbed Lily’s hand, tugging on it before motioning to the door. “Come on, you’ll want the front seat for this.”

She followed along as they marched out of Harry’s room and down the stairs. “Alright, alright.”

* * *

Long after the children had been put to bed and all of their messes had been cleaned up, Lily found herself taking a seat beside her husband. The living room was lit only by the fire and a single lamp that she’d left on earlier, but the dim lighting was enough to go by.

“Your turn, champ.” She hummed, leaning her head against James’ shoulder. 

“My turn at what?” James looked to Lily in confusion.

“To have a heart-to-heart with me. Harry did a pretty good job, so you’ve got a bar to live up to here.” She replied.

“Didn’t I marry you so we didn’t have to talk about feelings anymore?” James shook his head, glasses sliding down his nose a little. “I thought that was the point.”

“According to my intuition, it’s the exact opposite.” She snorted.

“Darn. I figured I’d exploded about my feelings enough fifth year to put you off it for a lifetime.” James groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes. “But, if you want a talk, we’ll have one. What’s today’s topic?”

“We both know what the topic is, dear.” She puffed out a sigh, blowing a strand of red hair away from her face.

“Not looking forward to it, but sure.” James sighed. “What did the little worm tell you?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know. Mostly he just asked a lot of questions.” She shrugged, the motion jostling James’ shoulder a bit. “He said you didn’t want to blame Peter.”

“I didn’t really answer his questions as well as I should have.” James put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “I wasn’t really in a position to answer, I guess. You get how tough it is.”

“I’m not holding that against you. I’m okay with answering those questions for you- it’s just that he said you didn’t want to blame him.” She repeated. “I’ve never pushed you to talk about Peter before. I know how much it hurts you. But what’s that about?”

“Peter had a tough life.” James said, although reluctantly, after a pause. “He grew up making the tough calls to keep himself safe, and to him, that was just another one of them. I can’t fault him for protecting himself when none of us did a particularly good job of looking out for him.”

Lily pulled away from her husband in order to look him in the face. Her eyebrows were drawn together in confusion, but she was silent for a long moment as she mulled over his words. “Is that really what you think?”

“I left Peter to fend for himself in favor of Sirius and Remus, once the war got messy, and we all suffered the consequences.” James shrugged, nervously running a hand through his hair. Peter wouldn’t have betrayed them without a reason-- even in their Hogwarts days, everything Peter had done had been with purpose, and contributing to a larger plan. He wouldn’t have given them up without some pressure on him, somehow. And James had put the pressure on him by focusing so heavily on keeping Remus and Sirius safe, and pushed him out of their friend group and straight to Voldemort. It was that simple. “I can’t blame him when he wasn’t the source of the problem.”

Lily’s confusion morphed into a mixture of shock and dismay. She had never broached this topic before because she had assumed it would be too painful. She had thought that Peter’s betrayal still stung James. This was an entirely different ballpark. “Are you telling me that you… blame yourself? That you’ve been blaming yourself for over a decade for what happened?” Her voice was quiet.

“I don’t know.” James shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. Figured no one was mentioning it to me for a reason, really.”

“No one was mentioning it because we didn’t want to upset you!” She said.

“I guess I did a fine job of upsetting myself, then.” James chuckled, although there was no warmth or humor in it. He’d overreacted as usual, something he was prone to doing. No wonder they hadn’t wanted to mention it to him, because they’d thought he would have done something ridiculous. And here he was, doing something ridiculous regardless. “Sorry. He was our Pete, you know? And I didn’t ask him once how he was really feeling over that last year. I just took it for granted that he was telling the truth when he said he was fine, and, all that time, he wasn’t.”

“And how is that your fault? We’re all human, James. We can’t know things if people don’t tell us. None of us knew Peter was going to turn tail and run. If you blame yourself you’re gonna have to blame Sirius and Remus and me and the entire Order, as well.” Lily said. She had never known Peter too closely- even after her and James had gotten married. They had been in the midst of a war, and Peter had never stuck around for too long.

“You’re right.” James said, nodding. A smile was on his face, but it was nothing like the one Lily looked forward to. “We couldn’t have known. He was always too good at hiding.”

“Don’t you dare lie to make me happy, James.” She jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “We might be old and married but I can still kick your arse.”

“And I’d probably thank you for it, really. History tends to repeat itself, on that front.” The laugh that came after this was a little closer to genuine. “You don’t get it, though. I mean, you weren’t… You didn’t grow up with us. Well, you did, but you weren’t one of us then, you know? We were supposed to look out for each other. I was supposed to look out for all of them. And I didn’t. Peter had every reason to betray us because I betrayed him first.”

“You did no such thing. Friends are supposed to stand by each other. You did that. You did everything you could for Peter- all of you did. It isn’t your fault he always forced himself to be the outsider. He never felt like one of you because he never let himself be one of you. For him it was always the cool kids letting him tag along, when for you it was just you and your friend Peter.” Lily frowned. “And because I wasn’t one of you, I know that. It’s always easier to see those things when you aren’t involved.”

“He was one of us! His name was on the map and we’d have died that first full moon if he hadn’t figured out the Willow! Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. It wouldn’t have been the Marauders without all of us. Together.” James said, frowning deeply. “Sure, he might have seemed that way to you, but he was our brother, same as all the rest of us were his.”

“Maybe to you, James. But not for him.” Lily’s voice was caught between firm and sympathetic.

“Peter loved us. And Harry. And he made his calls because he had to, I’m not going to deny him that.” James gritted his teeth, trying his best not to yell. It wouldn’t do to wake the kids, not at this hour. “But don’t ever say Peter didn’t love us.”

“I’m not saying he didn’t love you! I’m saying he never felt like he was one of you.” She leaned forward. “And that’s why you’re blaming yourself. You never could have imagined Peter not belonging because he was just as much a part of your family as Sirius or Remus or Harry, at that point. But he didn’t feel the same way you did about himself. You couldn’t have seen it coming, James.”

“Of course he did. I mean, we told him near daily that we were all family.” James trailed off, looking quite surprised. Peter’s family had always been a sore point for him, what with his father being the way he was, and declaring them to be family was probably not a good idea, in that light. But neither Sirius, Remus or James had known better, at thirteen, and had repeated that to Peter for years. Family wouldn’t have meant much to Peter at all. “Oh. Well. That wasn’t the right choice of words, if we wanted him around forever.”

“Family didn’t mean to Peter what it meant to you.” Lily agreed. “To Peter… I think protecting himself was the only ‘forever’ he knew.”

“If it had been Sirius or Remus, I would’ve figured it out. I would’ve been upset, but there would be a clear reason why. They would have said something, did something, made it clear why they were betraying us and when. That just… never was there with Peter.” James rubbed at his forehead. “And I guess that’s what took us all down in the end. We were all waiting for a clear sign, when he’d been telling us all along.”

Lily placed a hand on James’ shoulder. “You couldn’t have known, James.” She said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I couldn’t have.” James said quietly, nodding. He couldn’t have known what was going on inside Peter’s head. They were Animaguses, not mind readers, and turning into forest creatures together once a month had never allowed James to fully understand Peter. He’d carried the weight of that on his shoulders for twelve years, that dreadful thought that he might have never fully known Peter, and now it had finally fallen to the floor, leaving him feeling oddly light and shaken to the core. “I really couldn’t have.”

“You okay?” Lily whispered. James looked shell-shocked and, in that moment, older than his thirty-three years. He had always tried to take the weight of the world onto his shoulders. It was something that Lily had always hated. She could only beat so much of it back.

“I don’t know.” James shook his head. “I’ll figure it out, I guess. And you’ll be right there to kick my arse when I do it wrong, right?”

“It’s why I married you.” Lily said with a tired smile. “Gotta have someone to push you in the right direction.”

“I’ve always needed that.” James smiled weakly. “You’ve got a talent for setting me straight.”

“Even I can’t do that, dear.” Lily’s smile turned more towards a smirk. “We’re both too bi to be straight.”

“I don’t know why I said that.” James laughed. “I really don’t know why I thought that would make sense.”


	9. Fight Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a quarter to eleven, the team proceeded down to the pitch, and his prayers must have been heard, because visibility was excellent. It was a clear day, not a single cloud in the sky, and the biting cold that had plagued Hogwarts for the past few months was noticeably absent. It was looking to be a good day for a match, something Harry was immensely thankful for. Second place was practically theirs.

Pongal came and went, bringing with it the best present Harry had ever achieved-- thanks to a narrow loss to Slytherin by Ravenclaw, Gryffindor was now guaranteed second place if they beat Ravenclaw. Oliver increased the team practices to five a week, in preparation for the game, and between the nightly practices and lessons with Uncle Remus on Saturdays, Harry was swamped with work, only having Sunday night to finish his homework properly.

The rest of January slid into February, with no change in the freezing cold weather, and Harry was thankful that his father had gotten him a new broom for Christmas, as the school brooms weren’t very happy about the weather. Harry’s new broom was a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, the same that Malfoy had, and Harry was sure everyone knew, since he’d made sure to mention that to Malfoy publicly at least three times in the past week. Of course, Harry, unlike Malfoy, had been cautioned that this was the only broom he was getting for the next four years, and if this one broke before the end of his Hogwarts career, he would be on school brooms until graduation, but there was no need to tell anyone else that.

The only damper on his mood was that his lessons were not going as well as he’d hoped-- he was still only managing a silvery mist, and Harry could feel the disappointment settling over him, warm and uncomfortable, every time he came back to consciousness on the floor. Uncle Remus had told him not to think that way, that it was NEWT level magic and that Harry should hardly feel inferior for not being able to produce a corporeal Patronus when many full trained wizards could not, but Harry persisted in feeling awful about it.

He ran into Neville one Saturday evening, after a particularly miserable lesson, and was glad for the distraction. He and Neville had spoken less and less with each passing year, something that worried him, as they’d been the best of friends when young. Both his mother and Aunt Alice had said not to worry, and that it was just a matter of differing interests and busy workloads, but Harry, as usual, had worried his little heart out.

“Hey, Nev!” He called out, and Neville, upon noticing Harry, sped over happily.

“Hi Harry!” Neville said, looking quite gleeful. “How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since December!”

“Tired.” Harry said, shaking his head. Neville clapped him on the back, always one to comfort others. “I want to sleep for an entire week.”

“Easter holidays are soon!” Neville pointed out. “Although they won’t be too happy for me. Dad’s got to take us to Grandma’s.”

Harry winced. Augusta Longbottom had literally terrified him to the point of pissing his pants, once, and he had no to desire repeat the incident. Of course, it had just been him dropping a silver candlestick, but Harry had never needed very much pushing to get upset, before Hogwarts. Good thing Neville wasn't the type to dig up peoples' embarrassing childhood stories. “Yikes. D’you have to go?”

“Required.” Neville said mournfully. “Could you watch Ketteridge for me? While we’re gone?”

“Ketteridge?” Harry frowned. “Who’s that?”

“Dad got me a new Screechsnap for Christmas!” Neville’s whole face lit up as he spoke about his new plant, and Harry felt a little happier by association. It was always nice to watch Neville talk about Herbology-- he always got so animated when he spoke about his favorite subject, and even though Harry didn’t care for it, it was always fun to see his friend excited. “I named it after Elladora Ketteridge! She discovered the properties of Gillyweed. Did you know that?”

“Now I do!” Harry grinned. “That’s neat, Nev!”

“Yeah, thanks.” Neville nodded. “Mum said it was a cool name.”

“It is.” Harry nodded. “Shows how into plants you are, and all. It’s cool to be that excited about something. Ketteridge can spend the break with Spike, then. Bonding.”

“Brilliant.” Neville grinned. “How’s Quidditch going, then? Last I heard, you were in third.”

“We’ll be in second soon, if the practices Oliver’s been running help.” Harry smiled brightly. “I think we’ve got a solid chance at beating Ravenclaw. They haven’t even picked a Seeker yet, and the game’s quite soon.”

“I’ll be rooting for you.” Neville said, fiddling with his tie. “I’ll bring some friends! It’ll be wicked!”

“You’re one of the best friends I’ve got.” Harry grinned, reaching up to ruffle Neville’s hair. “I should be going. There’ll be hell to pay if Filch catches me out again.”

“No kidding.” Neville chuckled. “See you around?”

“Definitely!” Harry called out, before beginning the long walk up to Gryffindor Tower. Talking to Neville always lifted his spirits considerably, and he would have to make a point of doing it far more often from now on.

* * *

It was a quiet day in the Gryffindor common room. Harry had been doing his homework, and Hermione was studying on the floor beside him. Their peace was short lived, however, as Ron burst in with an excited air about him a moment later. “Guess what I found!”

“A solution to all my problems?” Harry looked up from his work hopefully. “Please?”

“That wouldn’t be possible.” Hermione muttered, staring at the pages of her Arithmancy book like the problems could solve themselves.

“Darn.” Harry said glumly, before looking to Ron. “What is it then?”

“Something really cool!” Ron promised. He put his hand in his pocket before gently removing what appeared to be a small, mangy pile of fur. “Lookit!” The creature stirred, poking it’s nose upwards and fixing Harry with it’s beady eyes. The rat was skinny and unhealthy-looking, at best.

“A rat?” Harry frowned. “Why?”

“You should be glad I’ve locked Crookshanks up, then.” Hermione said flatly. “Your rat doesn’t look like he’d survive a harsh wind.”

“Don’t listen to her, Scabbers.” Ron told the rat. “She’s just grumpy.”

“Scabbers?” Harry grimaced. “Weird name.”

“Scabbers the second, really. Percy used to have a rat named Scabbers! He died years ago, though.” Ron said, taking a seat beside Harry. He placed his new pet down in his lap.

“Huh. Cool.” Harry reached out to pet the rat. “Rats don’t live too long, so that makes sense.”

“Three years, for a garden rat.” Hermione said, without looking up from her book. “And yours looks much older than that.”

“He’s a special rat, then.” Ron frowned at his friend. “So can you make sure Crookshanks doesn’t eat him? Your cat is a beast.”

“I can’t make sure Crookshanks does anything.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “I can do my part to keep anything tragic from happening if you do yours.”

“It’s your cat, you should at least be able to keep it from eating someone else’s pet!” He argued.

“Crookshanks feeds on the mice and rats in the school! No one asked you to find a stray rat and get attached to it!” Hermione said, slamming her book shut. Harry was relieved, as she’d been staring at one particular problem for about half an hour now, and he was quite afraid that the page would have burned if she’d tried to concentrate anymore. “And it’s sickly too! You’ll be upset over it when it dies, and for no gain!”

“It doesn’t have to have gain- it’s a rat! You’d be upset if Crookshanks died and you wouldn’t get anything back from it!” He snapped. “What’s your problem?!”

“Yes, but Crookshanks is my pet! You found a rat on the ground!” Hermione snapped back. “Some of us have actual work to do, and we can’t be keeping an eye on everything twenty-four hours a day!”

“Well, why the hell can’t Scabbers be my pet?” Ron got back to his feet, rat safely in hand. “Just cause I can’t pay for a fancy cat or owl like you and Harry doesn’t mean I can’t take care of it!”

“Harry, if you found a half dead rat on the ground, would you immediately ask someone else to do the work of keeping it alive for you?” Hermione turned on Harry, looking absolutely furious.

“Look, mate, it’s nothing about the money. It’s never about the money. She’s just worried Scabbers might get hurt, is all.” Harry stumbled to his feet, shaking his head. And Hermione, I get that you’re taking about eighty classes right now, but that’s no reason to yell at Ron like that.”

“No, she isn’t worried about Scabbers at all! She’s just being a jerk!” He scowled. “Just forget it.” He turned and stalked back towards the portrait he had come through, mumbling angrily to himself.

“Hermione, you really shouldn’t have done that.” Harry said, sitting back down to finish his work. “You should apologize.”

“He can come talk to me when he’s ready to apologize.” Hermione said, opening her book back up again. “And not a single moment sooner.”

“Great.” Harry groaned. “Just what we all need.”

* * *

The day of the match dawned, bright and early, and Harry was nearly late to breakfast, after nearly half an hour in the temple room on the seventh floor, arguing with himself over whether Quidditch games counted as obstacles or wars, and whether he should ask Pillaiyar or Murugan to help out with the win. In the end, he settled on both, and barely made it down on time.

“I hope your new broom can save you from dementors, Potter.” Draco sneered. He was quite obviously put-out over Harry having the same broom as him.

“I wouldn’t put much faith in it on that front, seeing as yours hasn’t even gotten you out of fourth place.” Harry called out, waving cheekily at Malfoy.

The Gryffindor team dissolved into laughter as Malfoy stalked away, looking hell bent on revenge. The Slytherin team was grouped up at the other end of the hall, despite the fact that they weren’t playing today, and started talking loudly the moment Malfoy joined them, no doubt conferring as to whether Harry’s broom was, in fact, every bit as good as Malfoy’s.

At a quarter to eleven, the team proceeded down to the pitch, and his prayers must have been heard, because visibility was excellent. It was a clear day, not a single cloud in the sky, and the biting cold that had plagued Hogwarts for the past few months was noticeably absent. It was looking to be a good day for a match, something Harry was immensely thankful for. Second place was practically theirs.

Oliver stood tall in the grass of the pitch, his head tipped back and his eyes trained on the sky. “If we lose,” he started, “we’re out of the running. This is our last chance. But if you all fly as well as I know you can, we will win this!”

Harry nodded, and the Gryffindor team walked out onto the field to the sound of applause. Ravenclaw had lined up already, waiting on the other side of the line running across the field, and Harry smiled as he noticed Cho Chang, Ravenclaw’s Seeker. She was the only person on the other team who was shorter than him, despite the fact that she was a year older than him, which was slightly disheartening, as the smaller Seeker nearly always had the advantage. Cho smiled back, and Harry grinned as he mounted his broom. Playing at a disadvantage just made the game more fun to win.

Madame Hooch called out the usual start to the game, and ended her speech with a shrill blow of her whistle.

Harry rose into the air on three, soaring around the stadium as he kept an eye out for the Snitch. The key to winning against Ravenclaw, Oliver had said, was to end the game quickly, before they got the opportunity to score too often. The Chasers and Beaters had spent weeks studying Ravenclaw’s common formations and attack plans, so Harry wasn’t worried about them. What he was worried about was getting to the Snitch immediately. And after his ten second catch during practice the night before, it was almost guaranteed that he’d get there first.

“Gryffindor in possession!” Lee Jordan’s voice boomed through the stadium. “Katie bell going for the goal!”

Harry swept past Katie, noticing that Cho was close on his tail. Cho was a good flier, he’d known that from watching her play, but she wouldn’t be able to keep up with him if he played his cards right. He urged his broom forward, spotting the Snitch fluttering near the ground just as the bell rang, signaling that Katie had just scored the first goal of the match. Harry tilted the broom downward, nearly laying flat against the handle as he dove toward the bottom of the goalpost, and Cho followed him seconds later. But she had no chance-- dives were Harry’s specialty, had always been, and he was going to win this.

But, just as he hit ten feet from the Snitch, a Bludger came streaking through, and by the time Harry had avoided it, the Snitch was gone.

“Gryffindor is up eighty to zero.” Lee Jordan shouted excitedly. “The seekers are battling it out for snitch, but Cho Chang just can’t keep up with Harry Potter!”

Within five minutes, the score was a different story-- Ravenclaw scored three times in quick succession, and if Cho caught the Snitch, Ravenclaw would win by a hundred point margin. There would be no Quidditch Cup for Oliver, if she caught the Snitch. Harry, already frowning in concentration, only looked more and more serious as the game drew on. And then he saw it once more, a tiny flash of sunlight against wings near the Gryffindor goalpost, and sped toward it as quickly as he dared.

Like magic, Cho appeared in front of him, trying to block him, and Harry groaned, pulling up at the last second to try and fly over her. But it was no use, as the Snitch had vanished once more, leaving Harry with no leads. Cho seemed to be following Harry rather than following the snitch, and Harry grinned mischievously. She’d see the mistake in that soon enough. He pulled into a sharp dive, one that would have been too sharp to pull out of safely, had he not been practicing this maneuver all week, and Cho took the bait, thinking he’d seen the Snitch.

Harry pulled out of the dive just in time, noticing the Snitch fluttering about above the Ravenclaw end, and sped toward it, stretching his hand out at the last second. But then, he made the mistake of looking down, and saw three dementors on the field, looking up at him.

He didn’t have time to think as he slipped his wand from the wrist holster he used during games, and shouted “Expecto Patronum” once he had it pointed squarely at them. Something silvery white and massive shot out of his wand, speeding toward the dementors, and seconds later, Harry Potter closed his fingers around the struggling Snitch. Gryffindor had won, catapulting them into second place, and they were once more contenders for the cup.

Oliver was screaming his praises as Harry stumbled to the ground. He landed a moment later, still shouting. “That’s it! That’s my seeker! Harry Potter!”

Harry was quite worried that Oliver was about to sweep him up into a hug, but the body that launched into him turned out to be Ron instead. “That was bloody brilliant!” He crowed.

Percy was hurrying after his brother. A grin had settled across his face, though it was noticeably less excited than everyone else’s. Sports had never been his favorite passtime. “Brilliant!” He agreed. “Beautiful maneuver, Harry. You’ve won me a bet against Penelope!” He passed by with that, only to be swept up in an excited hug from his boyfriend.

“Quite the Patronus you’ve got.” A voice whispered in Harry’s ear, and Harry turned, grinning with delight, to find Uncle Remus beaming at him, wearing a red and gold jumper that Harry was sure he’d seen Uncle Sirius wearing only a week before.

“They didn’t affect me at all!” Harry said, excitedly. “I didn’t feel a single thing! No voices, no screaming!”

“That’s because they, er, weren’t dementors.” Remus said, looking quite sheepish. “Come along, there’s something you should see.”

Harry blinked in surprise as he was lead to the scene of the crime. Several familiar faces were tangled up in oversized robes on the floor. Malfoy scowled as Harry approached, his mouth twisted upwards in disgust. He seemed positively outraged. His tiny form was accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle, who were also attempting to rid themselves of the false dementor costumes. The Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, was also present. His anger seemed to be directed more towards Gryffindor’s victory than being discovered.

“Cowards, the lot of you!” McGonagall snapped. “Dumbledore will have your heads for a stunt like this! Sabotaging another team- I’m disappointed.”

None of that mattered to Harry, however, as what made the victory truly great was Neville running over to him, gleeful at the sight of Malfoy tangling himself further into the robe as he fought to get out of it.

“Brilliant job, Harry!” Neville said breathlessly, and Harry shook his hand quite enthusiastically before the two were swept up by their respective houses and separated.

* * *

It was as if they had already won the Cup, judging by the way the party was going, and Harry kept to himself in one of the corners, as he often did. Parties, although fun, were often too noisy for him to really enjoy. Hermione, who was sitting in a corner and reading the assigned book for Muggle Studies quite intently, seemed intent on not enjoying the party at all, so Harry, exhausted, took a seat by her.

“Did you come to the match?” He asked.

“I did. And I’d love to talk to you about it, but this is due Monday.” She said curtly, flipping another page.

“Eat something at least.” Harry said, beginning to feel uncomfortably like his father whenever Remus got into his researching moods. “Just a little bit.”

Ron approached the two of them, his cheerful face souring slightly when he glanced at Hermione. “Aren’t you going to celebrate?” He asked Harry.

“Yeah, I am, but I’d like my two best mates to celebrate with me.” He shrugged.

“Hey, I’m celebrating just fine.” Ron shrugged. “Homework isn’t really a party activity, though.”

“I’m widening my horizons.” Hermione said, looking to Harry rather than Ron. “I don’t know why anyone would be wasting their time on a party this close to exams, though.”

“Hermione, you can talk to him.” Harry said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I mean, fight’s over and you’re okay now, right?”

Hermione slapped Harry’s hand, and he pulled it back quickly, cradling it against his chest.

“Alright, maybe it’s not over.” Harry shrugged.

“Nothing ever is with Hermione.” Ron scowled.

“I guess she doesn’t want to be disturbed.” Harry said, nudging Ron with his elbow. “What’s the plan?”

“Fred and George got a hold of some indoor fireworks!”

“Sweet!” Harry said, and pulled Ron along toward the center of the party.

They all went up to bed only after Professor McGonagall strode in, looking quite angry, and insisted that one in the morning was far too late for children of their ages to be up. Harry, who was already quite exhausted, fell straight into bed, barely managing to change out of his clothes before falling victim to a very strange dream.

He was chasing something silver, which flashed ahead of him in the woods, and no matter how quickly he ran, it was always just too fast for him. He could hear the sound of hooves, when he got close, but then the silvery beast picked up speed, and he was trying so hard, legs burning with exertion, gasping for breath---

“ARGH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Harry sat straight up, fumbling with the curtains around his bed with one hand as he cast around for his glasses with the other. “What happened? Who screamed?”

Dean lit his lamp, casting enough light around the room for Harry to see Ron looking terrified, knees drawn up to his chest as he hugged them tightly.

“Pettigrew!” He shrieked. “It was Peter Pettigrew! With a knife!”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a dream, right, Ron?” Dean asked, carefully, rubbing at his eyes. A lump in Dean’s bed wiggled, then the blankets were drawn back to reveal a still sleepy Seamus, one of Dean’s West Ham shirts hanging off his thinner frame.

“Alright, boys?” Seamus said, blinking away sleep, before cursing a blue streak once he noticed the huge tear in Ron’s curtains. “You must have had a shit dream, mate.”

The four boys went down the stairs in a pack, finding the common room still messy from the party the night before.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?” Seamus asked again.

“It wasn’t a bloody dream!” Ron insisted. His pale face and wide eyes seemed to be convincing enough, as Seamus glanced around nervously.

A few of the girls, Parvati Patil among them, were already waiting in the common room as the boys descended the stairs.

“Should’ve known it’d be Weasley causing all the ruckus.” She muttered irritably as the boys came toward the armchairs. Harry sat down on the arm of her chair, and Parvati closed her hand around his in a surprising display of compassion, considering the time. “What’ve you done this time?”

“Everyone back to bed!” A new voice barked. Percy had appeared, his hair tousled and eyes annoyed.

“Right. It’s too late for all this noise.” Oliver agreed from behind his boyfriend.

“Percy!” Ron jumped to his feet again, dismay apparent in his expression. “Peter Pettigrew was up in the dorms! He had a knife!”

Everyone went silent, and Parvati pulled on Harry’s hand hard enough to jerk him into the seat of the chair alongside her.

Percy let out an exasperated sigh. “It was just a nightmare, Ronald.” He said in his best Molly-voice. “You must have eaten too much before you went to bed.”

McGonagall swept in suddenly, adding to the steadily growing population of the common room. She was dressed in her nightclothes and seemed incredibly annoyed. “I told you all to go to sleep!” She said angrily.

“PETER PETTIGREW WAS IN THE DORMS AND TRIED TO STAB ME!” Ron suddenly screamed, his volume increasing as though in an attempt to convince someone of the truth. His face had gone red now, in contrast to the white pallor he had had coming down the stairs.

“How did he get through the portrait hole?” McGonagall seemed quite serious, despite Percy’s quiet protests.

“I… I dunno, ask the knight guy!” Ron pointed to one of the many painting lining the wall- one of which contained a certain man in armor.

McGonagall let out a sharp breath through her nose. “... Did you see anyone come in, Sir Cadogan?”

“Certainly, good lady!” Sir Cadogan said brightly. “The good sir was on a quest! Said he had a urgent message from home for one of our little ones.”

Harry, who was practically in Parvati’s lap by this point, stiffened in fear. A message from home? Peter had attacked Ron with a knife. That must mean-- No, it couldn’t be. Harry shook the thoughts out of his head even as McGonagall left to get Dumbledore. It couldn’t be. Ron had to be dreaming, but it would be safe to check, wouldn’t it? They were only checking.

“I saw him!” Ron insisted.

“Let’s hope you didn’t.” Parvati said, shaking her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Real Life is upon us again, so there won't be a chapter next Friday (August 14th). We'll be back to our schedule on the 21st, though, so don't you worry!! See you guys in two weeks!! -S


	10. Fowl Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden wave of guilt had Harry feeling sick to his stomach again, although he hadn’t been looking at the ferrets this time. He’d been so absorbed in his own problems, and this strange sense of lethargy taking over him, that he’d completely forgotten about Buckbeak’s hearing. The only comfort to him was that, judging by the distraught look on Ron’s face, he had forgotten too. Harry hung his head, doing his best to look guilty, which, given the situation, wasn’t too hard.

For once in his life, Ron was more famous than Harry.

Harry was glad for the attention to be on someone else for once, and enjoyed it even more so because of how happily Ron took to his newfound fame. Better Ron than himself, Harry thought, because Ron, although quite scared by the events still, was at least able to tell and retell the story countless times upon request. Harry had never been too good about that, when under pressure, so he settled easily into the role of Ron’s sidekick, loudly offering to carry his famous friend’s bag and mentioning his friend was both single and ready to mingle whenever he saw a girl so much as glance at Ron. Ron, to his credit, rolled with the punches.

“It was terrible, it was. One minute I’m sleeping, and the next the curtains around my bed are being ripped straight through! The noise woke me up, and the first thing I see is this crazy bloke standing over me with a knife! He was thin as a twig and bald and… really gross looking, honestly.” Ron shuddered at the memory. “I started shouting and the next thing I know he’s just gone. Poof! Like he shrank or apparated or something, but without the noise.”

A group of second year girls, captivated, waited for Ron to continue. When it seemed like he wasn’t going to offer any new insight, they scattered, whispering amongst themselves. Harry was simply glad that Ginny was not among them-- it was good that she had better things to do than gossip about Ron, but her company would have made listening to the story for the umpteenth time a little more bearable.

Ron turned to Harry after that, a puzzled expression settling over his features. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking about it… How come he ran? It wasn’t like any of us in the room were powerful enough to attack him.”

Harry shrugged. He honestly hadn’t given it that much thought. No, that was a lie, he’d been thinking solely about that since they’d come down to the common room that night, but he couldn’t find any reasonable answer. Why did Peter run? Why hadn’t he checked the next bed for Harry, or even stopped Ron from screaming to avoid discovery? But, if he was the sort to betray his friends and their baby to a genocidal racist, Harry thought bitterly, he mustn’t be the sort of person who thinks things out.

“I guess he figured you’d have woken the rest of us up.” Harry said, shrugging. He was doing a lot of that lately, maybe because of the odd sense of indecision that had settled over him. Nothing felt like the right choice, and between the dementors and finding out about Peter, he wanted nothing more than to take some time to himself, and perhaps sleep the information out of his head. But school was still on, and Quidditch had to be played, along with a hundred other obligations and responsibilities, and Harry felt himself wanting less and less to keep up with all of them. “Then he’d have to kill all of Gryffindor to keep us quiet, right?”

“Didn’t he kill like twelve people already?” Ron frowned.

“True.” Harry said thoughtfully, as they entered the Great Hall. Peter had killed twelve people by blowing up a street in Muggle London, thrown Uncle Sirius under the bus, and then disappeared shortly after. His stomach rumbled as he saw the food on the table, but he hardly felt like eating after discussing murder. “Suppose that’s not the answer either.”

As Harry sat down on the bench, Hedwig swept down toward him, a letter clutched tight in her beak. Harry patted her head before offering her a bowl of cornflakes, which she eagerly began to devour. “Seems to be from Hagrid.”

“Whassat?” Ron asked, already in the process of reaching for food.

Harry read the note, brightening up slightly. “It’s just an invitation for tea, tonight. We’re to be in the Entrance Hall at six.”

“I bet he wants to hear about Pettigrew, too!”

As it turned out, Hagrid wasn’t interested in Pettigrew at all.

“But it was really cool! And scary!” Ron protested.

“Already heard all abou’ it.” Hagrid ruffled Ron’s hair, the playful grin on his face barely visible behind his bushy brown beard. “Glad yer alright, though.”

Ron’s only response was an indignant sigh, and Harry barely held in a smile as his friend frowned grumpily.

They made their way down to Hagrid’s hut, the muddy ground squelching beneath their shoes, and, when Hagrid threw the door to his hut open, the first thing the boys saw was Buckbeak. One of Hagrid’s many quilts, all knitted by Alice Longbottom, was stretched out on the floor, and Buckbeak was lying on top of it, wings folded close to his sides as he chewed on a dead ferret. Harry didn’t even want to know what Aunt Alice would say if she found out one of her knitting projects was being used as a bed by a Hippogriff, considering she’d nearly chased Uncle Frank through three counties for using one of her mug covers to keep a plant pot warm.

Harry felt sick, and looked away from Buckbeak, spotting a gigantic, strange looking suit hanging from Hagrid’s wardrobe door, along with a ghastly yellow and orange tie. The suit looked oddly furry, like someone had tried to transfigure a bear into a suit and hadn’t done a good job of it. “What’s that for?”

“Buckbeak’s case.” Hagrid said, looking quite somber all of a sudden. “This Friday. We’ll be goin’ down ter London together on the Knight Bus.”

A sudden wave of guilt had Harry feeling sick to his stomach again, although he hadn’t been looking at the ferrets this time. He’d been so absorbed in his own problems, and this strange sense of lethargy taking over him, that he’d completely forgotten about Buckbeak’s hearing. The only comfort to him was that, judging by the distraught look on Ron’s face, he had forgotten too. Harry hung his head, doing his best to look guilty, which, given the situation, wasn’t too hard.

“Got somethin’ to talk to yeh about.” Hagrid said, looking between Harry and Ron. “Somethin’ important.”

“What?” Ron leaned forward excitedly.

“Hermione.” Hagrid said.

Ron made no secret of his distaste for the topic, sinking back into his chair while he rolled his eyes. “What about her?”

“Bin quite lonely, since yeh haven’t bin talkin’ to her.” Hagrid said, shaking his head. “And somethin’ new, now?"

“I haven’t seen Scabbers since Pettigrew attacked!” Ron crossed his arms. “Crookshanks must have eaten him! Just like I said he would.”

“Her cat acted like all cats do.” Hagrid shrugged. “Cryin’ often, poor thing. Goin’ through a bit of a rough time with her work, and she’s bin helpin’ with Buckbeak’s case besides. We’ll stand a much better chance, with Hermione on our side, won’t we, Beaky?”

Buckbeak gobbled down another ferret.

“I should’ve helped, Hagrid.” Harry said, guilt doubling at the thought of a sorrowful Hermione. “I could’ve found time and I didn’t and I’m really sorry.”

“No one’s blamin’ yeh, kid.” Hagrid shook his head. “Yeh’ve got enough goin’ on in yer life. Just keep yer head on straight, and we’ll call it even. Gotta tell yeh, though, thought you’d value yer friend more than a rat.”

Harry nodded. Hagrid was right-- he’d thought better of himself, but neither he nor Ron had even mentioned Hermione since the fight about keeping Scabbers. In fact, Harry wasn’t even aware if Hermione knew that Ron thought her cat was a murderer. He’d been a horrible friend to Hermione, and nothing could ever justify that.

“Well she values her cat more than me, apparently!” Ron harrumphed.

“People can be a bit blind abou’ their pets.” Hagrid said, smiling cheerily as Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto the quilt.

Harry contributed little to the rest of the conversation, twiddling his thumbs as he dwelled on what Hagrid had said. Mum wouldn’t have encouraged this sort of wallowing at all, had he been at home, but Harry wasn’t at home any longer, and was supposed to be responsible about these things. Instead, he’d left Hermione to feel lonely and Hagrid without help because he heard things when dementors were near him. That was hardly anything at all, compared to Hermione’s workload and Buckbeak’s case-- which could end in execution, if Hagrid wasn’t careful.

Hagrid walked them back up to the castle at nine, and by the time they made it back to the common room, a group had formed around the bulletin board. Ron pushed a couple of the shorter third years out of the way before turning back to Harry with a grin.

“Hogsmeade next weekend!”

“Excellent!” Harry said, trying to muster up some level of enthusiasm. All that meant was another weekend alone, punctuated by another lesson with Uncle Remus. But, judging by the mess he’d made of his life lately, the fluke on the Quidditch pitch was likely just that-- a fluke. He’d probably be fainting just as much as he did the first day.

“Ron, are you going to Hogsmeade?” A familiar voice asked, although more listlessly than Harry remembered it, and he turned to see Hermione, looking quite worn out. She looked as if she could fall asleep at a moment’s notice, and Harry didn’t know whether to rush to her side and lose Ron or let her fall asleep standing up, which could only end badly.

“Can you hear something, Harry?” Ron asked.

“You need a rest, not a talk with that lump.” Harry said, grabbing Hermione’s arm before leading her to a chair by the fire. “You’ve been working too hard.”

“I can handle it.” Hermione said stubbornly, even though her eyes were sliding shut. “Naps do increase productivity.”

“They do.” Harry said, patting her shoulder, and ran back over to Ron. “That was rude, mate. She’s got a lot on her plate.”

“Whatever. I’ll just go to Hogsmeade by myself.” He muttered angrily, turning to storm towards the dormitories.

* * *

Harry wandered the halls of Hogwarts, not bored enough to contemplate doing homework, but too bored to sit still. Ron and Hermione were both in Hogsmeade, likely ignoring each other, and it was good to be away from the drama for a bit, but he hadn’t realized how much of his life had been spent resolving fights lately.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mr. Potter?” Came an entirely unpleasant voice. Snape stood a few yards away, having just turned the corner. He folded his arms, which resembled enormous bat wings due to the size of his sleeves.

“I get the feeling you want me to say nowhere.” Harry said, with a shrug. “I’m just walking around. Besides, if I was going to cause trouble, I’d have friends with me.”

“I wouldn’t suggest trying to be smart with me.” Snape’s expression soured further, if that were possible.

“I was just walking.” Harry repeated, frowning slightly.

“I feel as though every time you’re ‘just’ doing something, you get into some sort of catastrophic trouble. I suppose having your father there to bail you out gives you the right to a bloated head?” Snape quipped.

“My head is fine. Mum says I just need to grow into it.” Harry grumbled. “And my father’s not here to bail me out.”

“Quite right he isn’t.” Snape agreed. “So I suggest you keep on your best behavior, Mr. Potter. I know how difficult that is for you.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong all year, sir.” Harry said, with the most innocent smile he could muster. “On the other hand, you’re attacking a thirteen year old. And this isn’t even the first time this week.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor for your insufferable cheek.” Snape narrowed his beady eyes. “I suggest you be on your way.”

“Hating my dad doesn’t mean you’re required to hunt down his kids and drag them to hell.” Harry said, frowning. “You’d be better off just hating him to his face.”

“One shouldn’t strive to be proud of a tainted legacy. You’d do well to remember that.” Snape swept past Harry, his footsteps quiet in the large corridor.

“Where do you think they got Potter from, kettle?” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. It seemed that, even when he tried his best, even one quiet afternoon was too much to ask.

* * *

Ron paused his long-winded monologue about his adventures in Hogsmeade to snort. “Look what the cat dragged in.” He said sarcastically.

“Thought you should know.” Hermione said, holding out a tear smudged letter to Harry. Her lower lip was trembling as she tried her best not to acknowledge Ron. “Buckbeak’s going to be killed.”

“What?!” Ron exclaimed.

Harry read over the letter from Hagrid and nodded glumly. Hagrid had lost, and Buckbeak was to be executed soon, for being dangerous. Harry hadn’t thought of Buckbeak that way ever-- although his eating habits definitely left a lot to be desired, Buckbeak was well-mannered if you approached him right. It was just that Draco Malfoy, as usual, had no idea how to start a proper conversation.

“There’ll be an appeal, there always is.” Hermione said, nodding resolutely. “And we’ll win it. We have to.”

“Yeah! We’ve got to!” Ron agreed, staring over Harry’s shoulder at the letter. “I’ll help this time, too, so you don’t have to do it all on your own.”

“Ron, thank you!” Hermione said, flinging her arms about his neck as she finally gave into her tears.

“Uh.” Ron patted Hermione’s back awkwardly.

“I’m sorry. About Scabbers, I mean.” She said as she let go of Ron, stepping back. “You’d only just got him, and it wasn’t fair of me to say what I did, and--”

“Doesn’t matter.” He mumbled, the tips of his ears going red. “You were right. He was just a stupid rat.”

* * *

 

With the heightened security, it was impossible to get a hold of Hagrid outside of classes, so Harry, Ron and Hermione clustered around him after the next Care of Magical Creatures class. Hagrid looked quite shaken. and Harry hugged him as tightly as he could to try and help, shuffling along awkwardly as he tried to hug Hagrid and walk at the same time. Hagrid patted Harry’s head, and Harry, relieved, let go.

“I got all tongue-tied.” Hagrid said, shaking his head. “Kept droppin’ me notes and gettin’ flustered.”

“No, don’t worry! Hermione, Harry and I have been working on the appeal!” Ron said. “We’ll win for sure.”

“No good, Ron.” Hagrid said glumly, as they reached the castle steps. “Lucius Malfoy’s runnin’ the committee. Let’s just make Beaky’s last days the happiest he’s had.”

Hagrid fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose loudly, before heading back to his hut.

“Looks like the big oaf is going to drown all of us in his snot.” Draco called out with vindictive glee.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were giggling as they imitated Hagrid, hands over their faces as they pretended to cry. Harry frowned, anger building inside him as he and Ron both reached for their wands, but surprisingly, neither of them were the first to act.

Hermione reached them first, drawing her fist back and ramming it into Malfoy’s nose. There was an audible crack, and he stumbled backward, hand over his nose. “Don’t you dare make fun of Hagrid! You’re pathetic and foul and evil, Malfoy!”

Draco squawked in dismay, clutching at his face. “L-let’s go.” He snapped at his cronies.

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle slunk off into the corridors, Malfoy muttering angrily to the other two, and Harry and Ron ran up to Hermione.

Ron stared at Hermione with awestruck eyes. “That was brilliant. You’re brilliant, Hermione.”

“You’d better beat Slytherin in the Quidditch final, Harry.” Hermione said curtly, all traces of anger gone. “I don’t think I could stand it if he won.”

“Done deal.” Harry said, not wanting to be the next in line for a nose breaking. “I’ll destroy him. Tear him in half. Yeah.”

“Good.” Hermione said, nodding resolutely, and the three of them marched back up to the Common Room together.


	11. The Quidditch Final

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry spotted a flash of gold near the goalposts and sped toward it, hand outstretched. He was going to catch the Snitch. Gryffindor had the Cup. He barely registered closing his hand around the ball in his excitement, and he was surrounded by his team members the moment they all touched down.

“Hey Ron?” Harry asked, as he and Ron exited the Charms classroom. “You know what’s weird?”

"If you tell me one more bloody pun, I'm skipping class for the rest of the day to avoid you." Ron groaned.

“Did you see Hermione in Charms today?” Harry scratched the back of his head, frowning slightly. “I didn’t.”

"No, I didn't either." Ron's forehead creased with worry as he scanned the hallway for any sign of Hermione.

“She was in Potions, but then she just… went missing. Maybe she just needed some time off.” Harry said, trying to convince himself that it could be fine and failing very badly. He looked around the hallway, as if Hermione would pop up at any moment and say “April Fools”, and then realized it wasn’t April yet, so that was impossible. Darn.

A quick trip up to Gryffindor Tower, however, set Harry’s nerves at ease. Hermione had fallen asleep in one of the scarlet armchairs using a book as a pillow, sheets of parchment bearing unfinished essays scattered around her. The bags under her eyes were even more visible than usual, and Harry was sure that if she opened her eyes, they’d be redder than Ron’s hair. Even when asleep, Hermione looked dead tired.

Ron glanced at his best friend before reaching out to tap Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione started awake suddenly, as if she’d been shocked, and looked around. She calmed down slightly, once she spotted the boys beside her, and then noticed the time on the clock. “How many classes have I missed?"

“I didn’t see you in Charms.” Harry said, trying to remember the entirety of Hermione’s schedule. “But you were in Potions, so that’s just one class then.”

“Oh, I’ve missed so much, and I bet I’m behind now!” Hermione said, looking quite distraught.

“Well, you’ll have time to make it up.” Harry said, patting her shoulder. “It’s Divination next, and god knows we don’t learn anything in that class anyway.”

“Oh, good.” Hermione said flatly. “I love Divination.”

"Aw, come on." Ron said in an attempt to be cheerful. "It isn't so bad! I like it. Pretty easy, too."

“Divination is hardly a real subject, Ron. It’s all wishy-washy and full of hand waving!” Hermione said, picking up her bookbag. “In fact, most witches and wizards who specialize in Divination are usually just saying what you want to hear! Do you really believe that someone can actually see the future in a crystal ball?”

Ron stuck his tongue out. "You're just mad cause I'm better at it than you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, mumbling something under her breath, and Harry knew he had to step in before this got worse and they all missed a class. He wouldn’t mind ditching Divination, but he knew Ron would, so he had to act fast.

“What a happy family.” Harry said, before grabbing Ron by the upper arm and marching him toward the door. “Hermione, you coming?”

“I have to.” She said, sighing loudly. “Can’t miss more, or I’ll fall behind.”

"We've been telling you all year you're taking too many classes." Ron said as he pulled away from Harry's grip.

“I thought I could do it.” She said, shrugging afterward. “It’s quite a lot, though.”

“Easy solution, then.” Harry said, with a grin. “Just drop Divination.”

Hermione laughed, shoving Harry’s shoulder lightly, and the trio continued up to the Divination classroom. They were late, the class already gazing into their crystal balls with expressions of dismay, or, in the case of Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, unbridled excitement. Lavender, in fact, seemed to be excitedly chattering about a possible prediction to Parvati, who was nodding quite seriously as she noted it down.

Harry, who took a seat with Ron, smiled sheepishly at Hermione, who groaned as she noticed everyone was paired off.

"Do not fret, child." Professor Trelawney sighed. "You'll be paired with me, today."

Hermione looked like there was nothing she wanted to do less in the world than work with Professor Trelawney, but dragged a chair over to where the professor was sitting regardless. Harry heard muffled laughter behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Dean and Seamus giggling as they whispered to each other.

“Alright there, lads?” Harry said, tipping his chair back to shove Dean lightly with one hand, his other holding tightly to the table to keep his balance. “Anything you’d like to tell the class?”

"Why not look into your crystal ball and see what I said?" Seamus grinned, planting his feet back on the floor.

“Fine, whatever.” Harry stuck out his tongue before righting his chair with a soft thump and turning back to Ron and their crystal ball. “Right, mate, I see a tree in your future. A real big tree.”

"That was terrible, even for us." Ron snorted.

“Fine, then what do you see?” Harry asked, slouching in his chair as he crossed his arms, pouting melodramatically to coax a laugh out of Ron.

"A graveyard." Ron said blankly, his eyes trained on the crystal ball. “Bloody weird looking headstones too.”

“Guess I’ll need to be taking new applications for a best friend, then.” Harry said, shaking his head as he tipped his chair back again.

"That isn't safe, mate." Ron said, looking quite disapproving for someone Harry knew for a fact had once eaten paper.

"What's not safe?" Harry said, leaning back a little further, and promptly fell backwards, taking the chair down with him.

"Have you seen something?" Trelawney gasped, suddenly rising to her feet. She hurried to Harry's side, the fabric of her ridiculous outfit billowing behind her. "Perhaps... The Grim?" Her voice dropped into a wavery whisper.

“I can’t take this anymore!” Hermione yelled, standing up suddenly. Lavender and Parvati gasped, looking up from their work. “None of this is true! The Grim doesn’t mean anything! Harry told you already-- maybe it’s just a big, black dog! Or maybe you’re just not seeing anything at all, and using the Grim to make it look like you’re actually seeing things!” Hermione looked angrier than Harry had ever seen her, and he was about to get up and stop her before she snatched up her bag and left the room, muttering angrily to herself.

“Professor Trelawney predicted that!” said Parvati, awestruck. “Remember? Someone will be leaving us near Easter!"

"Hermione just yelled at a teacher!" Ron whispered gleefully. "I'm so proud!"

“Well, that takes the fun out of Divination.” Harry muttered, still quite angry about having fallen out of the chair, and glared at crystal ball as if that would solve all of his problems. It didn't.

* * *

Harry trudged down the grounds toward the pitch, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn’t tightly clutching his broom. He’d barely been able to sleep the night before because he’d been so worried about the game, which was not at all because of the impassioned speech Oliver had given about the two hundred points necessary to beat Slytherin, and the few times he had slept off, he’d been awakened by nightmares.

Harry took his place among the team, trying his best to look energetic.

Oliver stood in front of the team, shoulders squared. "Team.... This will be my last game with you. It's been an honor and a privilege to be your captain." He sucked in a deep breath. "This game is going to be as good as we make it! I want it to go well- I want us to crush Slytherin. Harry, do you know what to do?"

“Yes sir.” Harry said, trying his best to stay upright. “Two hundred points. I’ll get most of ‘em and then we’ll all win.”

"Great! Perfect! Fantastic! You're fantastic, Harry." He beamed. "This is going to be the be a great game. Clean. Precise. We're going to impress everyone in the stands! Like Percy. He's going to be watching closely, I'm sure."

“I’ve a good idea what Percy’s watching, and it isn’t the game.” Fred said, nudging Angelina with his elbow.

"Oh Oliver, you rode the broom so well! You looked so handsome!" George called out, swooning against his brother's shoulder.

"Boys!" Oliver barked, his face flushing.

“Madam Hooch is about to blow the whistle.” Alicia pointed out. “If you’d all like to get ready, then we might be able to play.”

Oliver cleared his throat and ignored the twins' snickers. "Alright, team. I believe in you. Let's get out on that field!"

“Yeah!” Harry said, nodding as energetically as he could before following the team out onto the field. All he had to do was beat Draco to the Snitch, and Draco wouldn’t see the Snitch if it were sitting on his nose.

The shrill shriek of the whistle broke him from his internal hype, and soon the teams were soaring upwards.

Within five minutes of being in the air, Slytherin had already committed four fouls, something Lee Jordan seemed to be quite excited about. Harry wasn’t so sure-- two of his teammates had nearly been knocked off their brooms already, and even though there were some reserve players ready, Harry didn’t know if they could win without all of the starters.

"Despite Slytherin's underhanded tactics, Gryffindor still manages to hang onto the lead! Can Harry manage to snatch the snitch in time?!" Lee's voice rang out from the Gryffindor stand.

Harry dodged a Bludger, moving just in time to avoid getting hit, and smiled when he heard one of Slytherin’s Beaters cursing. And then, there it was. The Snitch was down near the center line, and Harry dove toward it, catching Draco’s attention.

The whistle of wind whipping past Harry was almost enough to distract from the Slytherin seeker hurtling after him. Draco brushed against Harry's broom, hand outstretched as though in an attempt to yank him back.

“You know, Draco, if you just practiced, you wouldn’t need to cheat.” Harry said, shaking his head. The Snitch was already gone. All he had to do was convince Draco it was still where he was flying toward, and he’d have a few minutes to look around. And to get that, all he had to do was get Draco too upset to focus. “But I guess using Daddy’s name for everything’s just habit now. Breaking habits is hard.”

"Scared, Potter?" Draco sneered, attempting to edge past him. "It's fine to be intimidated by talent-- God knows you could use some."

“You know what? I could. Matter of fact, I’m going to get some right now. See you around, sucker.” Harry pulled out of the dive just in time to avoid crashing, rocketing back up to where he’d been searching for the Snitch before.

Draco, however, was not so lucky.

Harry scanned the field for the Snitch, not seeing it anywhere.

"Slytherin is catching up-- Harry should hurry up with that snitch!" Lee shouted.

Draco was back in the air by the tail end of Lee's statement, fury masking his features. He began circling the pitch again, heading higher and higher.

Harry spotted a flash of gold near the goalposts and sped toward it, hand outstretched. He was going to catch the Snitch. Gryffindor had the Cup. He barely registered closing his hand around the ball in his excitement, and he was surrounded by his team members the moment they all touched down.

“We did it!” Harry said, grinning as wide as he could. “Going out a champion, yeah, Oliver?”

Oliver seemed unable to form words, and instead crushed Harry into a bear hug.

"Think that means he's happy!" George crowed.

“As he should be!” Fred said, throwing an arm about George’s shoulders. “Mum always said we were winners, Georgie. And now it’s happened.”

"Damn right!" He pumped his fist in the air, his other arm looping around his brother.

Oliver pulled back from Harry, eyes bright with emotion. "Thank you!" He said, only to be cut off by Penelope and Percy's arrival.

“Oliver, great job!” Penelope hugged him tight. “Well played. Although, you definitely could have saved those two goals at the beginning.”

He gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing for a moment. "Yes-- uh, yeah, I.... Yeah, I could have. You'll have to help me practice later!"

"You just did what you've been talking about for years-- can't we focus on positives for the moment?" Percy seemed amused.

"Positives like your boyfriend's arse?" George laughed, joined by Lee Jordan, who was now celebrating between the twins.

"George!" Percy snapped.

Harry looked around for Ron and Hermione, hoping to find them on the field, or at least in the stands.

There was shouting from nearby, and Ron's waving arms were visible next to Hermione's bushy hair. "Get over here!" He shouted, obviously unable to fight his way through the crowd of Gryffindors.

“Ron, Hermione, we won!” Harry called out, pushing his way through the crowd to get to his friends. “We won the Cup!”

"Is that what you were doing out there? I didn't notice." Ron's sarcasm was ruined by his excitement. "You were brilliant! Hermione, wasn't he brilliant?"

“Excellent technique.” Hermione said, grinning. “Well done!”

“I know! Did you see me destroy Draco?” Harry laughed. “I wrecked him.”

"You're an inspiration!" Ron squeezed Harry, throwing an arm over his shoulders. "He'll be humiliated just showing his squirrely little face!"

“Can’t ask his dad to get him out of this one.” Harry remarked cheerfully, and Hermione nodded.

"Now we just have to win the house cup- that'll really piss the little rat off." Ron said.

“That’s only a couple weeks away. I can keep out of trouble until then.” Harry said confidently. “Don’t you think?”

“I really don’t think you want to know what we think.” Hermione said, patting Harry’s shoulder. “Sometimes not knowing is better.”


	12. Lily Evans Sees All, Knows All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight... the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight... before midnight... the servant... will set out... to rejoin... his master..."_ She gasped, her vise-like grip finally relaxing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shrieking Shack next week, guys! Who's pumped?? I know I am!! :)

Harry fidgeted as he waited for his turn to take the Divination final. Trelawney had predicted (“strongly implied”, said a voice in Harry’s head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione) that the final would involve predicting things from crystal balls. Harry, of course, had seized the opportunity and written to his mother to ask for proper predictions to give a teacher. Lily Evans, who tended to be rather skeptical of divination, had sent back a marvel of a letter, containing such gems as death, destruction, and perhaps a pleasant trip home for the weekend. Harry was quite sure he was going to have it framed.

“Harry Potter?” called a voice from inside the Divination room, and Harry climbed up the ladder and into the classroom, hesitantly approaching the table Trelawney had set up. He was quite worried, despite being confident mere hours before, and fidgeted after sitting down, looking around the room as if the fumes of vapor could create him some brilliant prophecy. He waited for a second, actually hoping for some deliverance, and was disappointed by the fact that the smoke was, indeed, just smoke.

Trelawney stared at him expectantly from behind her spectacles, eyes bright with anticipation. “As you can see, my dear child, you will be predicting from a crystal ball for me today. I hope for great things from you.” She murmured.

There was, indeed, a rather large orb sitting on the table. The stand seemed to be bronze, formed in the shape of three clawed feet. The crystal ball was almost as fogged as the room, and a rather plain grey color. It looked almost as if it was filled with smoke, as opposed to the solid rock Harry was pretty sure it was.

“Uh, I see smoke.” He said, quite disheartened. He removed his glasses, hoping that might help, and then discovered that he could hardly tell where the ball was at all, which proved to be a significant disadvantage. He slid them back on and stared deep into the crystal ball, hoping for something to pop out at him, but nothing did. “I see vacation in your future?” He offered, hoping that would be enough to pass.

The professor frowned, shaking her head. “Harry, you must unfog your mind’s eye before you can hope to unfog the future. Breath deeply and look.” She advised.

Harry sucked in a deep breath through his nose, exhaled and then stared deep into the ball. “I see something! A Hippogriff! And it’s flying away!”

“Flying away?” She leaned forward, her jewelry jingling slightly as she did. “And what else?”

“It flew.” Harry said, wondering what Trelawney wanted. “Away.”

“And that’s all…?” She sighed, obviously disappointed. “And not killed, then.”

“Could be some weird metaphor.” Harry shrugged. “Maybe it gained freedom through death or something.”

“Perhaps. What else do you see, child?” She clasped her hands together on the table.

“That’s it, really.” Harry said, squirming uncomfortably. To be honest, he hadn’t even seen the bird, so coming up with a second lie was beyond him at this point.

She pressed her lips into a thin line before nodding. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sorry, Professor.” Harry sighed, getting up and pushing the chair in. “I’ll see you next term.”

Trelawney nodded absently, which Harry took as a sign to head for the door. Halfway there, however, a loud groan escaped her lips as she doubled down over the table.

“Professor?” Harry rushed back over. “Are you okay?”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and glazed over behind her glasses. Her mouth was moving, but no words came out for several moments.

“Professor?” Harry waved his hand in front of her face, trying to figure out if she was alive. There was no reaction, and Harry glanced toward the trapdoor leading out of the classroom. “Right, I’m going to go get someone? You, uh, stay put.”

Her hand reached out to snatch at his robes, and she finally began speaking. Her voice was low and hollow, her tone detached. It was almost as though a completely different person was speaking through her. _“It will happen tonight.”_ She whispered.

“What’s happening?” Harry tried to wrench himself free, feeling quite uncomfortable.

 _“The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight... the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight... before midnight... the servant... will set out... to rejoin... his master..."_ She gasped, her vise-like grip finally relaxing.

“Professor?” Harry’s eyes widened in fear as he shook her by the shoulders. “Professor?”

She drew in a breath, blinking owlishly at her student. “Yes, dear?”

“You said something a little creepy and then passed right out.” Harry said. “Should I get Madam Pomfrey?”

“No, no, certainly not. I feel fine.” Trelawney waved her hand dismissively. “What did I say?”

“It was…” Harry wondered if he should tell Professor Trelawney the grim news she’d related, then decided against it. “It was just creepy, really. I don’t remember any of it. Am I done now?”

“Yes, of course.” She nodded. “I know I’ll be seeing you, Harry.”

“You saw it in the ball, I’m guessing.” Harry grinned at his professor, trying his best to look genuinely cheerful, before running back to the ladder and getting the hell out of that classroom.

Did everyone get weird prophecies? Was that just part of the final? Was he supposed to have remembered it to get the points? He found himself in front of his father’s classroom almost by surprise, as if his feet had lead him there. Thankfully, the classroom was empty, and his father looked relatively unoccupied. Well, he had his feet up on his desk and was trying to throw balls of parchment into a wastebasket, so he definitely wasn’t too busy.

“Appa?” Harry called out, and James quickly put his feet down on the floor and assumed a stern expression, trying to behave as if he hadn’t been doing everything he told his children not to do on a regular basis. “Cut the act, I saw you.”

“Fine.” James visibly relaxed. “Divination, right? How’d it go?”

“She told me a prophecy.” Harry said, offhandedly, and grabbed the wastebasket his father had been shooting at before holding it over his head. “Here’s a harder target.”

“Harder? You underestimate me.” James made the next one more easily than he had the others. Harry spotted a name and a date on the crumpled sheet of parchment and frowned as he looked to his father.

“Are you throwing away your students’ essays?”

“I’ve already got to keep yours. Why do I need other people’s kids’ stuff?” James rolled his eyes, already crumpling another piece of parchment, and took another shot. This one landed right in Harry’s face.

“Let me guess, you were aiming for that.” Harry grumbled grumpily.

“I’ll never tell.” James said, smiling brightly. “Right, you’ve got a question, I might have an answer. Shoot.”

“Did you see anything in the crystal ball, when you did Divination here? Cause I just saw a bird. I might’ve been looking out the window, though.” Harry shrugged. “Mum said you took it up to OWLs, so…”

“I didn’t see anything, no.” After being James Potter’s child for nearly fourteen years now, Harry was proud to say he knew his father’s tells. And the way James Potter was pulling at the collar of his shirt was a one hundred percent certain indicator that he was lying. “Lied about the Grim.”

“Guess that’s a family thing.” Harry said. “But more importantly, why are you lying?”

“Me? Lying?” James scoffed. Harry’s eyes narrowed. He was definitely lying. “Do I look like a liar?”

“Yes.” Harry said, and James groaned.

“You know, I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, no word of this gets back to your mother, alright?”

“Promise.” Harry said, shifting the wastebasket into his lap to hide the fact that he was crossing his fingers. “No word back to Mum.”

“When I took my OWLs, I saw her. And you.” James said, nodding. “Of course, I didn’t know who you were yet. Happier times, really. Life’s been nothing but crap since you were born."

“By crap, you mean wonderful, right?” Harry asked.

“Sure.” James nodded, forcing a smile. “Sure.”

“You didn’t check, you didn’t check!” Harry said, giggling, and held up his crossed fingers. James moved to get up, and Harry immediately put the wastebasket down on the desk and made a run for it. His father couldn’t catch him even if he tried.

Now, to tell Mum and ruin his father’s life forever. Why worry about a prophecy when there was an opportunity to get Appa in trouble?

* * *

> _Dear Mum,_
> 
> _I learned something important about Appa today, and I’m fully expecting compensation for this blackmail. Preferably in hug or bedtime extension form._
> 
> _Did you know he saw us in his Divination OWL? You and me. Yeah. He got all embarrassed when he told me too. Complete, one hundred percent the truth._
> 
> _And then he called me names and I ran back to Gryffindor Tower so he couldn’t get in. Smart, huh?_
> 
> _Exams will be over soon and then I’ll be home safe and sound, so don’t worry too much about your favorite son!_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Harry_
> 
> _PS: Trelawney did some mildly creepy prophecy thing, but most of those aren’t true, right?_

Lily read over the letter, her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline as she processed her son’s words. She had never taken divination (partly due to her disbelief, and partly to avoid James as much as possible), but it seemed there were things to be learned regardless.

The fact that James had seen his future family was both entertaining and irritating. Had he never mentioned it because he was embarrassed, or because he hadn’t wanted to upset her? Especially considering the rocky start to their relationship.

“I’m home!” James yelled as he tumbled out of the Floo, briefcase full of essays left to grade in hand.

Lily glanced at her husband, not bothering to stand from her position on the couch. “Harry sent me a letter.” She said.

“Darn.” James sighed and dropped his briefcase, putting his hands up. “Alright. You’ve got me. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got me, actually.” She pursed her lips. “But I guess you already knew that, huh?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I should’ve been honest about it.” He ran a hand through his hair, the other one dropping to his side to play with the hem of his shirt. “But you were of the opinion that I was an asshole, at that point, so I couldn’t very well tell you that we were married, in the future. Not that you were wrong, I mean, I was horrible.”

“You were.” She agreed. “And I probably wouldn’t have married you simply out of spite, if you had told me.”

“Saved both of us some trouble, in that case.” James grinned. “Imagine how weird it was for fifteen year old me, though. I’d finally resolved that I’m going to get over you, then I find out we have a baby in the future. Real kick in the face, that.”

“As if you’d ever get over me.” She grinned, leaning back against the couch. “This was inevitable as soon as Sirius and Remus hooked up and you know it.”

“Well, you and Peter were my only friends I hadn’t seen naked, at that point, so it was nice.” James chuckled, shaking his head. “I had to pick one of you to hang out with, and letting Peter suffer the same fate as me was just too good an option to let go.”

Lily seemed to sober up at the mention of Peter. She tipped her head back, hair spilling across the top of the couch as she stared at the ceiling. “Has there been any news on Peter?”

“None.” James shook his head, looking grim all of a sudden. “He’s been staying out of the news. On purpose, likely. Wherever he’s hiding, he doesn’t want to be found.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Lily mumbled dryly.

“I would’ve done a shi--” James looked around for the children. “A shit job of turning evil, if it means this much work.”

“Your idea of evil would be forcing other people into uncomfortable social situations.” Lily laughed. “You’d suck at it.”

“True. I mean, you’d make an alright villain, but I’d be horrid. Harry, there’s another one that’d do great at being evil.” James scowled. “He probably wrote you the minute he got back to Gryffindor Tower, the little twit.”

“Oh, yeah, tattling to mummy and asking for a hug and a later bedtime. Real villain material.” Lily smiled.

“He’s been tattling since Sarah was born.” James shook his head. “Sometimes I think we made a mistake with that one.”

“Well, we were planning on stopping after Sarah.” Lily reminded him.

“True.” James nodded. “Good plan. Not that I regret what happened, really. Good kids, the lot of them. We got lucky.”

“Still wouldn’t want to aim for a sixth.” Lily sighed.

“God no.” James shook his head. “No. Never. Next kid in this family’s coming from one of them, and I’m not watching it.”

“Hey, I was the one actually giving birth. You try giving birth to triplets!”

“True. Credit’s all yours, dear.” James put his hands up again. “I had the easy part, really.”

“Got that right.” She hummed. “Now are you gonna spend the night standing by the fireplace, or are you going to come sit with me while the kids are playing outside?”

“I was waiting for confirmation that I wasn’t in trouble, so I’ll take the cuddles while I can get them.” James strode over to the couch and sat down beside Lily, putting an arm around her waist to pull her a little closer. “Remember when we used to not have kids and actually got to talk to each other whenever we wanted? Those were the days.”

“Sarah’s gone next year, and the triplets the year after that.” Lily sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I dunno what I’m going to do with all that free time.”

“Hang out with your extremely handsome and caring husband, maybe?” James looked quite hopeful, which only made his suggestion more hilarious.

“Or maybe I’ll get a job.” She hummed, looking around for the kids before speaking again. “Not that these kids aren’t a job enough, really.”

“True. You could go back to your Potions thing. Except not in the kitchen this time.” James grinned. “I’m pretty sure that’s why Harry doesn’t know up from down, half the time.”

“Oh, please, he’s just fine! I had nothing to do with it.” She shoved at his shoulder with her elbow.

“Oh, so you’re blaming it on me?” James shoved her shoulder right back. “Or we could blame Sirius.”

“Definitely Sirius.” She said. “Blaming Sirius is always a safe bet.”

“Got him that toy broom and nothing’s been the same since.” James shook his head.

“He’s corrupted our son, James.” She mock-sighed.

“We need to end this.” James nodded. “We’ve got to kill him.”

“We can set it up. Peter can be the fake murderer.” Lily decided.

“Incredible. All we’ve got to do is lure him there with food or Harry. Or both.” James said, feigning seriousness. “And then we off him, Obliviate Peter with Sirius’ wand, and then call the Ministry.”

“I’ll practice my fake crying. It’ll be great.” Lily said. “A performance to die for.”

“It literally would be.” James said, pointing at Lily with a smile on his face. “Cause the plan’s-- You’re brilliant!”

“Well yeah, I am. Why do you mention that now, though?” Lily asked, eyebrow raised.

“Am I not allowed to mention it?” James frowned.

“The way you said it implied you just realized something.” She shrugged.

“Nah. It’s the same realization I’ve been having for years.” James smiled softly. “Just struck me with more force than usual.”

“Cool.” Lily leaned in to kiss her husband, laughing to herself as she did.

“Cool is right.” James grinned before leaning in as well, and that was the moment the children chose to come inside.

“Appa’s home!” Anne cried, catapulting herself onto the couch beside her parents.

“Did you tell Hari Anna I said hi?” Matt asked.

“Only all the time.” James pulled Matt into a tight hug. “He was all embarrassed about me talking to him in public and everything.”

Sarah sat down on the arm of the couch closest to Lily. “Is Hari Anna in trouble again?”

“Nope- it’s your father, this time around.” Lily said with a bright smile. She planted a kiss on the crown of Sarah’s head.

“What did Appa do?” Drew gasped.

“Appa…” Sarah sighed. “We can’t trust you by yourself for even five minutes.”

“Athu mathiri Appatta pesuviyaa?” James raised an eyebrow. (Are you really going to talk to your father like that?)

Sarah looked thoughtful for a second before nodding. “Pesuvene, Appa.” (Of course I will, Dad.)

“Two teenagers. Perfect.” James looked like he’d rather collect Bubotuber pus for eight hours than actually live his life. “And this one isn’t even an actual teenager yet.”

“I’m ten.” Sarah said. “That’s close.”

“Five isn’t anywhere near thirteen.” James said. “Isn’t that right, Mattie?”

“I’m nine.” Matt frowned in confusion. “Not five.”

“I can’t believe it. I’ve lost my sense of humor to fatherhood.” James pouted. “All I can do is tell terrible dad jokes forever, now.”

“You were telling those jokes when we were in school, James. You can’t hide from who you are.” Lily hummed.

“I wasn’t that bad.” James protested. “I was way better in school. Way better.”

“Were you really?” Sarah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “I’ll take Mum’s side on this one. She’s usually right.”

“She’s wrong about this.” James frowned. “Anne, my jokes are funny, right?”

“You make jokes?” Anne stared innocently at her father.

“Those are my girls.” Lily snickered.

“You’re all horrible children. I’m disowning you all.” James groaned. “Especially Harry. He’s first.”

“He’s not even here.” Drew pointed out.

“No- he’s dealing with Trelawney.” Lily said.

“What’s Trelawney done now?” James asked, genuinely interested. “Last staff meeting, she told me that we shouldn’t plan any family outings this summer. Not like we have any anyway, but really. That’s just… a little much.”

“But the Quidditch World Cup is this summer! And it’s in England this year!” Drew protested.

“Don’t even talk about that. Did you see the India match last week?” James shuddered at the thought. “Absolutely horrible performance. I knew the team wasn’t ready, but that was just shameful. At least it was Bulgaria, I mean, I don’t appreciate being destroyed, but at least it was a solid team.”

“I’m sure they can pull through if they try hard enough.” Matt murmured. He was ducking behind the couch as he spoke.

“That’s not how the tournament works, Mattie.” James looked around for his son, looking quite confused when he didn’t spot Matt. “We’re out now. And England’ll be out by semi-finals, mark my words. Their Seeker’s horrible. We could put you on a broom and you’d be better than him.”

“I don’t wanna be on a broom.” Came the muffled response.

“That Krum guy on the Bulgarian team will probably get them to the semifinals at the very least.” Drew said thoughtfully. “Maybe even the finals.”

“Krum’s quite good.” James nodded thoughtfully. “Your Uncle Remus is practically tearing people to pieces over Wales’ chances. It’s quite funny. I didn’t even know he cared about Quidditch that much, but I suppose that’s what home teams do to people."

“This year’s Wales team is rubbish.” Drew puffed out a breath of air, eyebrows furrowed. Drew was ordinarily quite mellow, but bring up any sport (especially Quidditch, cricket or football), and he’d go on and on about it for hours, much like his father.

“Y’know, I’d normally let you boys go on, but I don’t think any of us are in the mood for a day’s worth of Quidditch debate.” Lily raised an eyebrow.

“Remus spent a solid hour arguing with McGonagall, actually.” James chuckled. “Just like the good old days, yeah? Except she can’t give me detention this time.”

“You could still get fired, Appa.” Anne said.

“That’s why I didn’t join in.” James nodded. “And also because I know Wales’ team sucks. Anyway, no sports talk. Anything interesting happen today?”

“There are new books in the school library!” Sarah said, looking quite excited.

“Matt got across the monkey bars without falling off at recess.” Drew said.

“Trelawney apparently did a ‘creepy prophecy thing’ during Harry’s final.” Lily held up her eldest son’s letter.

“Tell him to ignore it.” James said, shaking his head. “If she’s telling us to skip Quidditch, it’s obviously all rubbish.”

“If she gives Harry a passing grade, then she must be mental.” Lily laughed.

“He said he predicted a bird.” James sighed, shaking his head. “Can you imagine? Just told her there was a bird in her future.”

“Brilliant. We raised a true genius.” Lily smiled.

“Yeah, her name is Sarah.” Matt piped up.

“Thanks, Mattie.” Sarah smiled. “I knew you were my favorite for a reason.”

“Did you eat dinner at Hogwarts, James?” Lily got to her feet, ruffling Sarah’s hair.

“I subjected myself to that for seven years. I’m not going to do it anymore.” James pulled a face. “Get ready, kids. You’re finally going to be thankful for us.”

“Is it really that bad?” Sarah asked, frowning.

“Not as bad anymore, if Harry can be believed. You kids would’ve cried at the state of things in the seventies.” James snorted. “Your patti and thatha used to send food from home because they were afraid I’d starve.”

“Doesn’t help that it took you years to get used to English food.” Lily said. “Come help me cook.”

“Anything for you, dear.” James got up from the couch, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. He had long been of the opinion that English food was mostly cardboard with tomatoes, but telling his wife that was akin to handing her a knife and giving her full permission to kill him. Keeping his mouth shut was absolutely the preferred option. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

“I never thought I’d miss Buckbeak.” Harry said glumly, as they approached Hagrid’s hut. Buckbeak, instead of being cooped up inside Hagrid’s hut, was now tied to a post among Hagrid’s terrifyingly large pumpkins. Buckbeak looked as happy as a hippogriff could look, and Harry felt weighed down by the sight. The hippogriff obviously had no idea that he was about to die. “But then again, I don’t think any of us ever thought Buckbeak would die like this.”

“This is all Malfoy’s fault.” Ron mumbled. His words were lacking their usual venom.

“I don’t think punching him once was enough.” Hermione grumbled.

A heavy silence fell over the trio as they made their way up the steps to Hagrid’s hut. Ron, easily the most composed of the three at the moment, knocked on the door.

“Come on in.” Hagrid called out, sounding very much as if he’d just finished crying. “Door’s unlocked.”

Ron shouldered the large door open and the three of them stepped inside. “Hey. S’just us.” He said.

“Figured yeh’d be along ter say yer goodbyes.” Hagrid sighed, rubbing his red, watering eyes with his fist. “Buckbeak meant a lot to yeh, and after all yeh did to save him… It’s only right.”

Ron shrugged, glancing at his friends. “Sorry that we couldn’t do any more to help… this is a load of rubbish, it is.”

“Absolute rubbish.” Hagrid echoed, slamming the fist he’d been using to rub his eyes down on the kitchen table, which rattled worryingly.

“If it makes you feel any better, Hermione punched Malfoy in the face.” Ron offered.

“Did yeh really?” Hagrid looked over to Hermione, who beamed proudly. “Shouldn’ be encouragin’ violence among yeh, as a teacher an’ all, but that’s a job well done, Hermione.”

“Thank you.” Hermione said.

“How long is it until the Ministry comes to… you know?” Harry asked, looking anywhere but at Hagrid. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he would start crying, if he made eye contact with his friend, so instead he studied every inch of the floor. “Take Buckbeak away?”

“You said it was today, but…” Ron trailed off, glancing out the window.

“They’ll be here soon, don’t yeh worry.” Hagrid sighed. “Execution’s at sundown. Yeh’ll have to run before then-- I hear Malfoy’s comin’.”

Ron swore colorfully, ducking away from the window. “We’ll have to go out the back door-- we aren’t supposed to be here!”

“We’ll go in a few minutes.” Harry said, casting a cautious glance at the window. No one was coming down to the hut yet, but they would be by soon. “Hagrid needs us.”

“It’s not safe for yeh to stay out here too long.” Hagrid said, frowning. “Especially with the Minister on his way.”

And, just as Hagrid said that, Hermione spotted four figures heading toward Hagrid’s hut, one carrying a large axe that shone midnight black in the last remaining rays of the sun. Two were familiar, Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy, and the man carrying the axe was surely the executioner, Walden Macnair. The fourth, a portly man in a suit with a matching bowler hat perched on top of his balding head, Hermione concluded, must be the Minister.

“Harry, Ron.” She said, motioning to the back door. “Now.”

Ron moved to shove open the back door, which led out into Hagrid’s garden. “Come on.”

Hermione and Harry followed Ron out the door, shutting it softly behind them just as the four men knocked on his front door. Buckbeak turned his head at the sound of them shuffling away from the hut, and Harry waved goodbye to the bird, hoping that waving to hippogriffs wasn’t one of those things that sent them into a killing rage. Buckbeak turned back to his ferrets, apparently finding Harry’s goodbye less than satisfactory to hold his attention.

The three of them trooped away solemnly. The castle loomed above them, the lights shining brightly in the fading light of the day. Their silence was only broken when Ron suddenly let out a shout of surprise. “Hey, it’s Scabbers!” He exclaimed.

“Scabbers?” Harry exclaimed, surprised. He’d thought the rat would surely be dead by now, judging by all the dangerous things Hagrid had gleefully told them lived in the forest this year.

“Ron, stay quiet!” Hermione hissed. “They can’t know that we’re out here! No students are supposed to be out of the castle.”

“But look!” He pointed wildly, and sure enough there was a small rat scurrying across the grounds. It was a scrawny, matted thing, missing two of its fingers. Definitely the rat that Ron had adopted a few weeks ago.

“We’ve got to get back to the castle.” Hermione tugged on the sleeve of Harry’s robes. “Come on.”

Ron ignored Hermione’s words, taking off after the animal instead.

“Dunno about the rat, but we need to catch Ron.” Harry said, and sped off after his friend, Hermione right on his heels. But Harry nearly stopped in shock when he noticed where Scabbers was running, for right in front of them loomed the Whomping Willow, thick, gnarled branches swinging about wildly.

There was no doubt about it-- Harry Potter, who had defeated Voldemort twice, was about to get his arse handed to him by a tree.


	13. Evil Uncle Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Harry. In first year, Hermione and I followed you past a three headed dog, some man-eating plants, and a life-size chess game that tried to kill us. Second year, Hermione was in a coma and I went to fight a giant bloody snake with you.” Ron said, hands on his hips. “We are going down this tunnel.”
> 
> “Suppose you’ve got a point.” Harry chuckled. “Right. Onwards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, here we are. The penultimate week of Furry Little Problem. We've got one last chapter planned next week (the 18th), and then we move full speed ahead into Harry Potter and the One Good Year on September 25th!! Thanks for sticking with us this long, and I can't wait to see you guys in the next book soon!! :) -S

“Ron!” Harry called out. “Watch it! The branches move!”

Ron, thanks to years of living with the twins, had decent reflexes. He ducked under a swinging branch shortly following Harry’s advice. “I’m fine!” He called over his shoulder.

“You won’t be fine for long!” Hermione called out. “It’ll take your head off!”

“We’ve got to stop the branches.” Harry yelled. “Ron, where’s Scabbers?”

“He’s running towards the trunk!” Ron shouted back.

“Stand back and let him go!” Harry motioned to Ron to fall back. “We can’t risk you getting hurt!”

“I said I’m fine.” He protested. Ron pulled his wand from his robe, pointing it towards the branches in front of him. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

While the branches lifted upwards, the tree itself seemed to take offense. The rest of its limbs shook violently, attempting to swat Ron away even as he dove for a hollow at the base of the tree-trunk.

“Ron, get back here!” Hermione yelled, running up to his side before grabbing his arm, obviously intending to drag him back.

“Look out!” Harry called out, pointing to a branch coming straight for them. “Duck!”

Ron cried out in surprise, grabbing Hermione and throwing the both of them to the ground. They landed among the gnarled roots of the Whomping Willow, and when the redhead rolled the two of them over to avoid being smashed by the branch, they tumbled into some sort of hole. They landed on the floor, disturbing a layer of dust that caused Ron to sneeze in Hermione’s face.

“What was that for?” Hermione shoved Ron away as hard as she could. “Get off me!”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You could say thank you.” He grumbled.

“I could.” Hermione nodded, nose scrunching up as she dusted herself off. “But I won’t.”

Ron climbed to his feet, turning to search for Scabbers again

“Harry, there’s a passage!” Hermione called out. “Duck and run!”

Within minutes, Harry had joined them in the tunnel. “Right.” He said, looking to Ron, then Hermione. “Where do you suppose this thing leads?”

“Hell if I know.” Ron peered down into the darkness. “Guess we’re going to find out, right?”

“Maybe one of us should go back.” Harry said, looking back toward the grounds. “Let the teachers know.”

“Harry. In first year, Hermione and I followed you past a three headed dog, some man-eating plants, and a life-size chess game that tried to kill us. Second year, Hermione was in a coma and I went to fight a giant bloody snake with you.” Ron said, hands on his hips. “We are going down this tunnel.”

“Suppose you’ve got a point.” Harry chuckled. “Right. Onwards.”

“You in, Hermione?” Ron asked, already holding his wand up, the tip alight.

“When am I not?” Hermione said, drawing her wand, as she led the charge down the tunnel.

Ron whooped loudly, setting off after her. “No time to waste, then!”

Harry jogged ahead, making sure to keep pace with his two friends, and listened hard for the sound of rat feet on the floor of the tunnel. Instead, there was only silence, something that seemed almost scarier than the sound of rat feet in the darkness.

It was hard to say how long the three of them walked in the dark. The shadows seemed to stare at them from beyond the puddle of light that Ron’s wand cast. Scabbers was nowhere to be seen, but they kept at it.

Suddenly, Harry spotted an exit, and dragged his friends toward it. At a glance, it was entirely apparent where the tunnel had led them.

Ron crawled out of the tunnel and stood, looking about the dusty room. The rotting wallpaper was peeled off parts of the wall, and what little furniture they saw was covered with dingy white sheets or lying in pieces across the floor. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet as they stepped further into the room, and Ron moved to peer out of a broken window. “Is this… the Shrieking Shack?”

Harry was puzzled-- had the tunnel taken them all the way to Hogsmeade? And wasn’t the Shrieking Shack haunted? Suddenly, they heard a squeaking noise from upstairs, and Harry motioned to the rickety, unstable looking stairs. “Must be Scabbers.”

The footfalls sounded too heavy to be a rat’s, though, and Harry shoved down the fear that felt like it was clogging his throat as he tiptoed up the stairs. The noise was easily pinpointed to one room, and Harry, Ron and Hermione approached the open doorway carefully, not wanting to scare Scabbers into running off again.

But instead of finding Scabbers, they found something infinitely more horrible.

There was a man standing across from them. His back was turned, and his thin shoulders hunched. He was so thin that the raggedy prison uniform he wore was practically hanging off his body, and what little hair he had was a colorless grey, though the lack of light wasn’t helping. He was trembling, badly, and seemed to be muttering to himself.

Harry inhaled sharply, thoughts coming together in his head.

Scabbers had come into the Shrieking Shack-- the rat had run ahead into the tunnel. The thought popped into Harry’s head with a frightening quickness, stealing the breath out of his lungs. Peter was a rat animagus. Wormtail, like Appa’s stag form was Prongs, and Uncle Sirius’ dog form was Padfoot. A rat had entered the shack, and here Peter was. Peter wasn’t just any rat.

Peter was Scabbers. Peter had been with them (with _Ron_ ) the whole time.

“Ron, Hermione!” Harry yelled out, forgetting that his friends were still right beside him. “Scabbers is Peter Pettigrew!”

The man turned quickly, his beady eyes made all the wider due to the large bags beneath them. He let out a hiss of surprise from between thin, cracked lips. His cheeks were sunken in and hollow, and his large nose twitched nervously as he glanced between the three children.

“Gross.” Ron mumbled.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled, on the off chance that Pettigrew was in possession of a wand, and grabbed the wand that soared toward him out of the air. It was dark brown, and quite short compared to Harry’s own. Uncle Sirius had said that the longest and shortest wands only went to wizards who were overcompensating for something, and judging by Pettigrew’s behavior, maybe Uncle Sirius hadn’t been lying after all.

A high-pitched laugh escaped the man, but was cut short. He rocked back and forth for a moment, eyes fixed on Harry’s face. Harry felt as if every detail of his face was being filed away for future reference, as Pettigrew stared at him, an odd sort of longing in his eyes. The uncomfortable feeling tugged at the pit of Harry’s stomach, and he stepped back slightly, feeling quite strange about the whole thing. “Oh my… Oh no… You look just like James, just like him.”

And, as if the emotion had been called forth by the mention of his father, Harry was suddenly burning with anger, holding Peter’s wand tight in his fist as he pointed his own at him. He hadn’t a single idea what he could use against Peter, now that he’d disarmed him, but he was sure as hell going to find out. “How _dare_ you? He thought you were his friend, and you left him to die! You left all of us to die! That’s not what friends do, you weird, sick _creep_!”

“I-I didn’t!” Peter looked away, deeply ashamed, as he wrung his hands in front of him. Harry wanted to laugh, but he didn’t trust what would come out of his mouth if he tried. “I had to do it! I was forced to do it!”

“Yeah, being forced to do it is a wonderful reason to betray your friends and their baby to a mass murderer!” Harry growled. His parents had trusted this man, had given their lives and Harry’s own over to him with the faith that he’d keep them safe, but he’d left them in the wind to save himself. Being forced to do it was nothing more than a cheap excuse-- Harry had no doubt, when looking at the man in front of him, that Peter would’ve sold them out for less. “You’re just about the worst Secret Keeper ever, I’d say.”

“And he’s a liar, to boot.” Hermione spoke up, frowning so deeply at Peter that Harry thought she might set him on fire with just the look in her eyes. Her hand closed around Harry’s upper arm so tightly that he thought it might snap clean in half. “Secret Keepers have to give the secret up voluntarily. It can’t be tortured out of them, or given up by accident.”

A fresh wave of anger rose in Harry’s chest, hot and bright, and he felt as if he could burn up from the inside if he didn’t let it out.

“Twelve years in Azkaban wasn’t enough, I’d say. Not for the likes of you!” Ron scowled at the man.

“You don’t mean that.” He squeaked. “You don’t. Why don’t you put the wand down, Harry? James… he wouldn’t want his son to be a murderer, right?”

“I know for a fact that neither of my parents would mind murdering you themselves, even.” Harry said, wrenching his arm away from Hermione’s grasp and stepping forward, wand held steady and pointed between Peter’s eyes. “You’ve made us all suffer, and my dad wouldn’t act for himself, but you can be sure that he’ll kill you over what you’ve done to Mum.”

“James wouldn’t--” Peter shrank back, looking quite afraid.

“James would.” bellowed a familiar voice from behind them, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were shoved out of the doorway as James and Remus pushed their way through the trio. Harry pulled his friends to the side, trying to keep them out of the thick of the action.

“Incarcerous!” James shouted, magical ropes shooting from the end of his wand and binding Peter’s hands and legs, leaving him in a wiggling lump on the floor. “You know, Petey, I really thought we’d meet again under better circumstances, but I’ve not been right once since ‘79.”

“You married Lily in ‘79, James.” Remus pointed out, wand still trained on Peter. He looked wild, as if he would tear Peter’s throat open at a moment’s notice, and Harry, to his surprise and great worry, couldn’t remember how close they were to the full moon. “Might want to rework that bit.”

“True. ‘80 then.” James nodded, looking over at Harry, Ron and Hermione to check that they were safe. Harry tucked his wand into his pocket, noticing how his father frowned at the sight of it out and pointed at Peter. “You know what the worst decision I made that year was, Peter?” James said, turning back toward Peter. “Trusting you.”

“No!” He lurched into a sitting position, still struggling against the ropes. “No, please! James, Remus, we were friends! Don’t you remember?”

"James and Lily are as good as my family, Peter. His kids are practically my kids." Remus rolled his sleeves up. Harry got the distinct impression that Remus was about to do something mildly terrifying, as the last time Harry had seen him roll his sleeves up this methodically was right before the flobberworm dissections halfway through term. Remus' frown deepened. "I don't let people fuck with my family like this."

"Aren't I family, Remus?" Peter asked pathetically, groveling at his friend's feet.

"The moment you sold them out, you stopped being family." Remus hissed, pointing his wand at Peter's face, right between his eyes. Harry sucked in a breath, eyes wide. Was Remus going to do what Harry thought he was? "James, I don't care what you have to say." Remus growled. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to kill him."

“I don’t want either you or my son becoming murderers on my behalf tonight, Moony.” James said, voice surprisingly level. He grabbed Remus’ wand hand, forcing it back to his friend's side. He didn’t even spare a look in Peter’s direction, during the whole exchange, treating him like a rather ugly stain on the carpet that everyone was trying to avoid. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone I care about.”

“Harry. Harry.” Peter wriggled closer to the trio of children, desperation coloring his features. He looked up at Harry, watery blue eyes meeting green ones, as he struggled to free himself. “You won’t let them hurt me, will you? I remember you, from when you were just a child. Such a brilliant baby, so sweet, so caring. You loved me. You won’t let them hurt your Uncle Peter, will you?”

Harry stepped back, not wanting Peter anywhere near him, and shook his head violently. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione closed ranks in front of him, looking equally disgusted.

“Get your hands off my son, Peter.” James said, gritting his teeth. “You have no right to call yourself his uncle, after all you’ve done.”

“Well, look what I’ve stumbled upon.” A new voice suddenly joined the fray. Snape stood in the doorway, wand raised threatening as he calmly glanced around the overcrowded room. “I knew you would betray them eventually, Lupin. It’s simply the nature of your kind. But I hadn’t expected Potter here to turn on his own family.”

“You know damn well I’m not sabotaging my family, Severus.” James said, irritation evident in his voice. “So shut your mouth about it and help us bring this bastard in.”

“His kind?” Hermione spoke up. “You can’t just generalize like that, Professor. Stereotypes are rude, overdone and disgusting.”

“Oh? Of course you’ve figured it out by now, Miss Granger.” Snape’s lips curled up into a disgusting smile. “Found out your beloved professor is a… werewolf.”

Ron let out a choked noise, eyebrows shooting up. “He’s a what?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, and it shouldn’t matter to anyone else.” Harry said, chest puffing out slightly, and glared at Snape as hard as he could.

“Well, it really should matter to you soon. The moon is rising, after all.” Snape hummed.

“Shit, Moony.” James turned to Remus, who looked just as human as he had moments before. “Severus, we’ll take Peter up the the castle. Kids, go. Now.”

Harry pushed his classmates out the door. “We’ve got to run! They’ll take care of Peter, don’t worry about it!”

“Don’t worry?!” Ron spluttered as they raced out of the room. “Your uncle is about to turn into a wolf, mate!”

“Does that every month, Ronniekins!” Harry called out, as he ran ahead. “Forgive me if I’m not surprised!”

Hermione was the first down the stairs, Ron right behind her, and Harry lagged behind long enough to hear his father and Snape thundering down the hallway, dragging something that Harry assumed was Peter.

“Professor!” Harry called out, looking to Snape as Snape and his father began their descent down the stairs. Snape looked even less pleased than his father did, to be forced into working together, which Harry had been sure, up to that point, was impossible. “I’ve got Pettigrew’s wand.”

“Hand it over, then.” Snape said, thrusting his hand out. He snatched the wand from Harry, storing it in his robes.

Harry followed his friends into the tunnel, thinking of nothing but getting them out of the Shack as quickly as possible. He’d never seen Uncle Remus this close to the full moon before, not that he could remember-- Mum and Appa had always enforced the rule that there would be no visits for two days before the moon and two days after, likely to let Uncle Remus rest, and it worried him to think that Uncle Remus could be in danger, and facing it alone.

“Hurry up!” He pushed Ron forward, like he remembered pushing Matt and Drew in their little plastic car as kids. “We have to go fast!”

He could hear Snape, his father and Peter gaining on them, and heaved a sigh of relief as they exited the mouth of the tunnel, pausing for a second to catch his breath before pointing at the castle. “Hurry!”

“We are!” Ron pulled away from his friend, ducking away from the tree as they sped towards the safety that Hogwarts offered.

“We’ve got to run! If Professor Lupin gets down the tunnel, we’ll all be in danger!” Hermione called out, grabbing Ron by the arm rather than Harry. “Hurry!”

“We’re going, _Mum_.” Harry said, rolling his eyes, and ran as fast as he could, ignoring the fact that his legs felt like they were on fire and that he was far past the good kind of tired out. Suddenly, the temperature dropped, and it felt as if the whole world were freezing over. The burning in his legs was suddenly gone, replaced by an odd sort of cold that seemed to settle deep inside him. Harry knew this cold, knew it too well, and tried his best to run faster. “Dementors! Run, run, run! They won’t care if we’re Peter or not!”

Ron let out a terrified groan, his face even paler than normal. “We can’t outrun dementors! They don’t even have legs!”

Harry took a deep breath, mulling over what he was about to say, before nodding. This was the right choice. “Go on ahead. I’ll stop them. I know how.”

“Harry, the only thing that can stop them is a Patronus, and that’s advanced magic.” Hermione said, looking quite panicked. “You’re a third year.”

“Yeah, I might be a third year, but I can do it.” Harry steeled himself, searching for the happiest memory he could think of. And there it was-- the triplets’ first day at the primary school with him and Sarah. Mum and Appa had been a little late to get them, and Harry had ended up pushing the triplets around in one of those plastic cars they always made little kids play in.

“A car full of clowns”, Appa had said, when he and Mum had shown up to get them, and Harry had laughed and pushed a crying Matt even faster. He felt the feeling swell in his chest, and raised his wand against the oncoming dementors.

“Expecto Patronum!” He called out, and a silvery wisp of smoke shot out from the end of his wand, transforming into a very familiar stag, which cantered toward the Dementors. They drew back in fear, scattering quickly, and Harry felt the temperature rise back to normal, and laughed as his breathing got a little easier.

Prongs. It had been Prongs all along, just waiting for the right moment.

Prongs had saved him.

He ran to catch up with Ron and Hermione, grinning gleefully. “I did it!” He could hardly believe himself, laughing excitedly as they reached the castle doors. “I did it!”

Ron looked quite proud of his best friend and clapped him on the shoulder excitedly. “You did it!” He repeated, obviously at a loss for words.

“That’s seriously advanced magic, Harry.” Hermione looked beyond proud, reaching around Ron to ruffle Harry’s hair once they’d made it into the castle. “Well done!”

“Professor Lupin taught me.” Harry said, as they ran up the stairs. “While you lot were off at Hogsmeade.”

Hermione huffed, looking quite annoyed all of a sudden. “I would’ve skipped Hogsmeade if I knew the ones who stayed behind were getting extra lessons.”

“Extra lessons?” Ron gave her a disbelieving look. “Do you know how many classes you were taking? You’re ridiculous! You didn’t need anything on top of that!”

“Students! Students!” A voice suddenly shrieked. Percy was practically sprinting towards them, panic clear on his face. “Oh-- Ron! Harry, Hermione! You need to get back to the common room immediately!”

“Why?” Harry asked, innocently, tucking his wand away into the sleeve of his robe.

Ron’s brother stopped to catch his breath, bracing one of his hands against the wall. “Peter Pettigrew! He’s been spotted on the grounds! Everything is on lockdown!”

Ron frowned, his nose scrunching up in a way that made his freckles look odd. “What? They, uh, haven’t got him in custody, or something?”

“Not yet! The professors have called in the auror department, but we have to make sure all the students are safe.” Percy insisted.

“We’ll get right up to the dormitory, then.” Harry nodded. “Promise.”

“What do you suppose that’s about?” Hermione asked, looking to Harry. “Did something happen or…”

“My dad and Professor Snape may not like each other, but they’ll do it. They’ll bring him in. I know it.” Harry ignored the fear brewing in the pit of his stomach as the words of Professor Trelawney’s prophecy came back to him. The servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. Something felt wrong, about those words.

Harry couldn’t have known that, at that very moment, Peter Pettigrew had ripped through his bindings, and transformed back into Scabbers, scurrying off into the forest. But it was the rest of the prophecy that bothered him the most-- the part saying that Voldemort would rise again, and even worse this time, with that servant’s aid.

“They’ll bring him in.” Harry said, trying to sound confident, as the trio approached the portrait hole.

Harry had no way of knowing that they wouldn’t.

* * *

By the next morning, the news that Peter Pettigrew had escaped was all over the school, and Harry rushed to his father’s office as early as he could. He knew as well as anyone else in the world did that his father would blame himself first and others later, and if Mum wasn’t around to fix things, Harry would have to. She’d told him as much before he’d left home after Easter Break ended.

"Appa?" Harry asked hesitantly, as his father sat at his desk, head in his hands. He looked distraught, and rightfully so, but Harry knew something that'd fix him. "Appa?"

James grunted, more an indication that he was alive than anything else, and Harry dragged a chair over to his father's, squeezing behind the desk with him before resting his head against his father's shoulder. Almost immediately, James wrapped his arms around his son, holding Harry's head tight to his chest.

"Appa? Ennoda Patronus ennanu theriyumaa?" Harry asked. He could feel his father's heartbeat through his shirt, and the thought was more comforting than he'd have liked to admit. (Appa, do you know what my Patronus is?)

"Theriyaadhe. Sollen." James said, rocking Harry back and forth as if he were a little child. Harry remembered being held like this, before his siblings came along, but things had been different, after that. Busier, understandably. Moments like this were few and far between, and he loved every one. (I don't know. Tell me?)

"Prongs, Appa." Harry said, pulling his head away to meet his father's eyes. James went from surprised, to confused, to smiling in two seconds, hazel eyes scrunching up at the edges when he smiled just like Harry's.

"Seriyaana aalu, da." James said, hugging Harry tighter, chest heaving with laughter. Harry didn't protest, wrapping his arms around his father as well instead. Corporeal patronuses, Uncle Remus had said, were manifestations of who you trusted most to protect you in the world. Prongs being Harry's, then, was no surprise at all. "Seriyaana aalu." James said, ruffling Harry's hair, and Harry smiled wide. (You've got some guts, man. You've got some guts.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, “We can’t outrun dementors! They don’t even have legs!” is now officially my favorite thing Lai has written, ever. It's honestly my favorite thing about this chapter, really, even though there's so much more about it to love. Let us know what your favorite lines were this week, dialogue or not!! I'd love to get your input. :) -S


	14. The Time Turner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione looked around, before leaning in conspiratorially. “I suppose I can tell you now that I’ve given it back to McGonagall, but the Ministry loaned me a Time Turner for the year.”
> 
> “I knew it!” Ron suddenly leapt to his feet, swaying slightly as the train rounded a turn. “I knew there was something weird going on! We’d turn around and you’d have disappeared or turned up when you weren’t there a minute ago!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three books down, folks!! 
> 
> I'm so proud of Lai and I for making it through Furry Little Problem (this is the longest book yet by almost 400 words) and I'm super pumped for Book Four-- Chapter One of Harry Potter and the One Good Year will be out next Friday, September 25th!! 
> 
> FLP's been a lot of fun, but I'm ready to get to the Triwizard Tournament!! Get ready for surprises, screaming, and calling out Jily, because it's going to be a lot of fun for everyone involved!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading along with us, and all the comments you've left-- we read every one and reply as much as we can!! They're all well appreciated, and I hope this is the end you were all looking for!! 
> 
> -S

“Another year full of surprises.” Harry said, looking back to make sure Hedwig's cage was still balanced on the trunk he was dragging behind him, as the trio searched for an empty compartment. He was in quite a happy mood, as he’d discovered his favorite shirt was much smaller on him than it had been when he’d returned to Hogwarts last. Harry was hoping it was a sign that he’d finally be able to fight his mother for the title of second tallest Potter. It was a miracle she had held on to it for this long, as Harry was quite sure his father had to get most things down from the kitchen cabinets for her. “I only got one detention this year. One. And it was from Snape, so it doesn’t even count.”

“I’m proud of you.” Hermione said, looking very much the opposite. If anything, Hermione’s expression was closer to disbelief than disappointment, as if she couldn’t believe she’d gone and made friends with someone who would be proud of having only one detention a year. Harry understood, because honestly, if given a choice, he probably wouldn’t have made friends with himself either. “One detention is much less than your average.”

“I know!” Harry said, with a grin. “I’ve usually got twenty by the end of the year, plus a murder attempt.”

“Well, there’s still a murder attempt under your belt.” Ron mused. “Two, if you count pulling your wand on Pettigrew as another one.”

“Sorry about Scabbers, by the way.” Harry found an empty compartment and dragged his trunk in. “My dad says we’ll get you a replacement.”

“I don’t think having a pet rat seems like such an awesome idea anymore.” Ron said, shuddering at the thought of what Scabbers had ended up being. “Glad I only had him for a few months, honestly.”

“Would’ve been weird if you’d had him longer.” Harry said, and Hermione nodded. “Maybe we’ll get you an owl. Wouldn’t have to worry about that fighting Crookshanks.” Hermione’s cat growled menacingly at Harry from his spot in her arms. “Easy, I’m making your life better.”

“Crookshanks likes you.” Hermione said, petting her cat, who purred happily. “And Ron as well.”

“Was one of those electives you took this year lying class?” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I still don’t get how you managed to take so many classes without going mental” Ron said, as he collapsed into a seat.

“Well, I won’t be next year.” Hermione said. “I’m scaling back. It was far too much for me to handle.”

“It’s not April, so she can’t be lying too badly.” Harry looked to Ron for confirmation.

“I’m just going to enjoy the fact that Hermione admitted she bit off more than she could chew.” Ron said, smiling mischievously.

“How’d you take that many classes anyway?” Harry asked, frowning slightly. “Most of them were at the same times, so you had to be missing something.”

Hermione looked around, before leaning in conspiratorially. “I suppose I can tell you now that I’ve given it back to McGonagall, but the Ministry loaned me a Time Turner for the year.”

“I knew it!” Ron suddenly leapt to his feet, swaying slightly as the train rounded a turn. “I knew there was something weird going on! We’d turn around and you’d have disappeared or turned up when you weren’t there a minute ago!”

“It seemed very sketchy.” Harry nodded. A Time Turner would certainly explain what he and Ron had witnessed all year. Whenever Hermione had disappeared, while supposedly right behind them, she’d been going back in time to go to another class. “Does that mean that there were multiple Hermiones in Hogwarts all year? What if we’d run into another one!”

“You think it woulda created one of those paradon things?” Ron asked.

“Paradox, Ron.” Hermione corrected.

“That’s a cool concept though, Ron. Paradon. Paradoff. Paradon. Paradoff. What if there was a little switch?” Harry pretended to flip a switch on and off. “Like the Twilight Zone or something.”

“What’s a switch?” Ron asked, finally sitting back down next to Hermione.

“It turns the lights off and on.” Hermione looked over at Ron to check that he was understanding. “It turns the electricity to the lights on and off. You mentioned your father likes plugs, so I suppose you know about electricity.”

“Oh.” Ron said, nodding thoughtfully. “Our lights are just charmed to turn on and off when we go in and out of rooms. I’ll tell my dad about that though- bet he’ll like it! Just like plugs and stuff.”

“They’re quite nice.” Hermione nodded. “Convenient.”

“Can you get me one to show my dad?” Ron leaned forward, a curious expression overtaking his face.

“I suppose I could find one. My dad’s always trying to fix something in the house, so we’ll always have something lying around in the garage.” Hermione frowned thoughtfully. “I’ll mail one to you, once I get home. Do you have an address?”

“Mail?” Ron frowned. “You mean like with an owl, don’t you?”

“No, like with the Postal Service.” Hermione looked at Harry in confusion. Harry merely shrugged, unsure how to catch Ron up on this one.

“What’s that? Does it have to do with ecklecktricity?” Ron scratched his head.

“Not at all.” Harry shook his head. “They’re like owls. Except people. People owls. They bring the mail.”

“People owls?” Ron made a face. “That doesn’t sound right… You sure that’s a muggle thing? You’re not pulling my leg?”

“Ron, they’re just people who do what owls do in the Wizarding World.” Hermione chuckled. “Harry’s just explaining it badly to mess with you.”

“I wonder if the postman’ll complain to my parents if I tell him an owl could do his job faster again.” Harry said, staring out the window.

“Again?” Ron laughed. “You make a habit of that, mate?”

“I was four last time and didn’t mean it.” Harry said, pouting. “Besides, Sarah says he said something about how he’s glad I’ve been sent off to boarding school, so I’m going to have to get him back.”

“Being rude to postmen isn’t helping anything, Harry. He might just stop bringing the mail, and then your parents wouldn’t know when to pay their bills or taxes.” Hermione said. “Not the brightest of ideas.”

“Fine.” Harry sighed. “No fun this summer, then.”

“You can always have a water fight with Drew and Anne. If it gets as intense as last time, someone might end up in the hospital!” Ron said cheerfully.

“Someone’s ended up in the hospital?” Hermione looked shocked. “From a water fight?”

“Mum says we don’t know when to stop.” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “It’s pretty true.”

“Sarah and Matt know not to play anymore.” Ron said. “Anne gets really into it.”

“Anne gets really into it.” Harry nodded. “It’s kind of scary. Gryffindor for sure. I’d eat my own foot if she ended up anywhere else.”

“He’s already promised to eat a boot if Sarah isn’t in Slytherin. We’re all holding him to it.” Ron told Hermione with a snicker.

“I won’t actually do it.” Harry rolled his eyes. Everyone had been completely confident that Sarah would be sorted into Slytherin before the hat touched her head, as a child, but Harry was rethinking his judgment a little lately. “Besides, if Sarah isn’t in Slytherin, I can hang out with her more. I’ve changed my official bet to ‘Not Gryffindor’, so that’s a hundred percent chance of winning. Anne said it was cheating, but nobody said I couldn’t do it, so Mum ruled in my favor.”

“Does Sarah like that you’re placing bets on her?” Hermione frowned.

“It’s a family thing. We do it all the time.” Harry shrugged. “I suppose she’s used to it by now.”

“I think she’d be more offended if they didn’t place bets.” Ron said.

“She’d probably yell at me about probability and statistics and stuff.” Harry shuddered. “You should try writing to her, Hermione. The two of you would have a great time.”

“She’s one of Ginny’s best friends.” Ron said, as though supporting Harry’s statement.

“Ginny would beat up Ron, when we were little, and Sarah’d watch for the adults.” Harry said with a smile. “It was almost cute.”

“That’s a load of crap!” Ron stretched out his leg to gently kick Harry. “You were right there getting beat up with me.”

“Not as much as you.” Harry stuck his tongue out. “Besides, she’s not my little sister, so it looks worse when she takes you down.”

“I’m not allowed to hit my sister. My mum would get angry at me, even if she hit me a lot first.” Ron grumbled.

“I’m not allowed to fight Anne either, but that’s mostly because she could put me in the hospital if she really wanted to.” Harry nodded. “Sarah’s less likely to fight than a rock, so I’m safe on that front.”

“Having siblings sounds exhausting.” Hermione said.

“Absolutely. You can take some of mine for a bit, if you want.” Harry grinned. “Try it out, then thank your parents.”

“You can have the twins. And Percy. I’m sick of them.” Ron groaned.

“I’m fine.” Hermione laughed awkwardly. “I don’t think your parents would be okay with that, anyhow.”

“You underestimate my parents.” Harry said flatly.

“I think my mum would weep tears of joy if you took some of us off her hands.” Ron sighed.

“I’d rather not.” Hermione shook her head. “You can keep your siblings. Isn’t that what they’re for?”

“Also kicking you in the face while cuddling.” Harry added, looking quite disgusted. “It hurts.”

“And tossing spiders on you. And ruining your tenth birthday party. And sometimes maybe being decent, on a good day.”

“Drew’s my favorite.” Harry said, unprompted. “And also Sarah, and Matt, and Anne.”

“Charlie is my favorite.” Ron replied seriously. “Just Charlie. And maybe Ginny, one day out of the week.”

“Ron’s taste in people is improving. I remember you used to hang around Percy, when we were little.” Harry snickered.

“That was before he became a huge prick.” Ron mumbled.

“True. Percy used to be pretty okay. Then he went to Hogwarts.” Harry sighed. “So much potential.”

“Percy’s perfectly fine.” Hermione said, shrugging. “Didn’t he graduate today?”

“And Oliver too.” Harry said mournfully. “Good thing we got the House Cup this year, ‘cause I’m never going to see it again.”

“And Penelope. She was always helpful, when I was looking for things in the library.” Hermione said. “And we’ll be fourth years, next year. And fifth years the year after, and we’ll have to take our OWLs. That’s five years worth of material, boys, so you’d better start revising this summer.”

“Can’t we just copy off of you?” Harry groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes, when Hermione shot a glare his way. “The injustices done to me are beyond counting. My friend has betrayed me.”

“Sounds like you’re quoting Malfoy there, mate. Better watch yourself.” Ron smirked as he turned back to Hermione. “If either of you want to see Penelope and Oliver just come over to the burrow. I’m sure we’ll be able to find one of ‘em snogging Percy in a broom cupboard at any given point in time.”

“Gross. Enough about the snogging, let's talk about Uncle Remus.” Harry piped up. “Feels good to not have to call him Professor Lupin anymore, but I wish he hadn't lost his job about everything.”

“It sucks that he had to resign as a professor. He was cool, and Hagrid liked the company I think.” Ron sighed.

“Yeah. All Snape’s fault.” Harry frowned. “Why can’t he get fired? I mean, in three years, he’s given us hundreds of detentions, maybe twenty of which we deserved, outed Uncle Remus as a werewolf for personal gain, accused my father of everything from conspiring to murder my entire family to being a bad father, and stalks me pretty much everywhere I go, while I’m at school, because he thinks I’m ‘suspicious’. If anyone deserves firing, it’s him.”

Ron placed the tips of his index fingers on either of his temples and screwed his face up as though deep in thought. “I foresee great tragedy in his future!” He said, obviously imitating Professor Trelawney. “He’ll definitely be out of a job soon. Dead. Or maybe just severely injured. Either way, he won’t be a teacher anymore.”

“Good.” Harry nodded. “Can’t stand him too much longer. Yuck.” 

* * *

King's Cross was as crowded as ever.

Families crowded together, small children ducked between parents’ legs, and the small witches and wizards who knew they would be the ones boarding the steam engine in a few short months looked on in awe.

Lily Evans could only watch the scarlet train roll to a stop with a tight knot of anxiety sitting in her chest.

She was alone at the train station for the first time since she had been a student, as she and James had decided that bringing the children out into such a public place when Peter was still loose was a terrible idea. She held her wand tightly against the outside of her thigh, green eyes alert as she watched for danger. Everything had happened so quickly, following Pettigrew’s escape. She hadn’t even found out what had happened until the next morning, when her husband had shown up in their living room, caked in dirt from a night in the Forbidden Forest, looking more agitated than Lily had seen him in the last thirteen years.

Peter had been on the run for almost a full year now. This shouldn’t have been anything new. But something inside her was even more anxious before. Perhaps having him so close to being back in custody had finally made everything feel real. Peter being locked away for so long had lulled them into a false sense of security, making Lily think that they had a chance at the normal life she and James had made plans about as seventeen year olds hidden away in the clock tower at Hogwarts. Within the last few months alone, Peter had made it clear that they didn’t stand a chance at that.

Students began exiting the train, some still dressed in their school uniforms. She stepped forward, silently searching the crowds for Harry’s messy head of hair. The most important thing was getting her son home safely, and the family would move forward from there. Of course, that required finding Harry, an arduous task even when not surrounded by people on a crowded train platform.

Lily scanned the wave of children exiting the train again, hoping for some quick clue as to where her son was, and a new wave of terror roiled in her stomach as she realized that Peter could have gotten to him already, and they wouldn’t have even known. And then she spotted a familiar head of messy black hair, nearly long enough to fall into familiar green eyes, and the frantic thumping of her heart eased up a little.

She could always count on this one to be safe, in the end. 

* * *

“You know, I’m usually able to find them ‘cause of Dad, but he’s nowhere to be seen.” Harry said to Ron as they wandered around the platform, scratching his head as he looked around the crowd. Hermione had spotted her parents almost immediately, and had left after nearly two minutes of hugging and promises that Harry and Ron would both actually write this summer. Ron, especially, seemed excited about the prospect of learning more about the Muggle Postal Service. Harry was much more interested in what Ron would consider a proper letter. “No screaming, so Anne’s not here. They’re making this awfully hard for me.”

“I’d say look for red hair, but then you’d just end up coming home with me.” His friend shrugged, nodding towards the gaggle of Weasleys assembled nearby. “Need me to help you find your family?”

“Harry!” came a relieved call. The pair looked up to find Lily Evans-Potter wading through the crowd with a tired smile.

“Never mind. Have a good summer, mate. I’ll owl you!” Ron smiled, slapping his best friend’s back before grabbing his luggage and joining his family.

"I'll see you at the World Cup!" Harry called out, as Ron ran toward his parents and siblings, and grinned as his mother finally reached him, dropping his trunk and Hedwig's cage to hug her as tightly as he could. “Mum, you showed up! I was afraid you’d left me to rot or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If I let you try and get home on your own, you’d probably end up joining a circus on the side of the road.” She laughed, kissing Harry’s temple as she reached up to smooth down his hair.

“I’ve got better taste than a roadside circus.” Harry pouted. “I’d at least try for a regular circus. Although I can’t qualify for Abnormally Short Teenager anymore.” He’d been right in his suspicions-- he was definitely taller than his mother now, although only barely. Anne was going to throw a fit about this, and Harry was going to enjoy every second.

“I can’t believe this.” Lily sighed, shaking her head as she stepped back, holding her son at arm’s length. “I’m going to have to start wearing heels everywhere, aren’t I?”

“Everywhere.” Harry shook his head. “A tragedy. It’s okay, though-- you’ll be rid of me for the year again in a couple months, and then you won’t have to wear them all the time.”

“At the rate your siblings are growing? I wouldn’t put money on that.” Lily said.

“Aren’t they bad for your legs or something?” Harry asked. “I remember Uncle Sirius saying that, for some reason. He knows the oddest things.”

“Maybe I’ll make him wear heels for a while and then let him make a comment.” Lily said, her smile a little more easy this time.

“I’m glad I’ve gotten at least a little taller. Sarah was making the biggest deal over how she was catching up to me over the last break.” Harry laughed. “Who’s losing that bet now? Not me.”

“She still has puberty coming, sweetheart. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” Lily reminded him.

“I’m still hoping I’ve got Appa’s height in there somewhere.” Harry said. “Maybe it’s hiding.”

“Maybe.” Lily agreed. “We should get home- the kids are excited to see you.”

“We should.” Harry nodded, grabbing the handle of his trunk. “Who wouldn’t be excited to see me? I’m Harry Potter.”

“The boy who’s finally taller than his mum!” Lily laughed, picking up Hedwig’s cage.

“Took me long enough to get there.” Harry grumbled.

“You’re only thirteen, sweetheart. It only feels like forever because you’re impatient.” Lily hummed as they made their way off the platform and toward the fireplaces along the walls.

“I won’t be thirteen forever.” Harry said, as they found an empty fireplace. “Only a month more to fourteen. That’s barely anything. And I’ll be seventeen in three years, and then you can’t give me a bedtime anymore.”

“Don’t be in such a rush.” Lily said. “You only get to be a kid once.”

“True.” Harry nodded. “I like being a kid. Less stress. Although Hermione’s already talking about revising for OWLs this summer. Something about five years of material and needing to prepare ahead of time. They’re not too bad, are they?”

“You’re better off joining that circus.” Lily advised teasingly.

“Oh, good.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “There goes my promising academic career.”

“The way your sister tells it, you didn’t have one to begin with.” Lily threw an arm around her son’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “I promised Matt I would believe in you, though.”

“I do. The only class I’m doing badly in is Potions, and that’s mostly ‘cause Snape’s evil.” Harry said.

“Let’s kill him- I’ll take his job and then both your parents will be your teachers!” Lily said, looking oddly excited about the suggestion.

“No!” Harry shook his head, looking quite frightened. “We can’t just kill people, Mum! Also, I can handle just Appa at school, but not both of you. No way.” He threw some Floo Powder into the grate before stepping into the green flames, dragging his trunk along with him. “Potter Residence!”

Within seconds, he was tumbling out of the fireplace and onto the floor of the living room, landing halfway on top of his trunk. He dragged it out of the fireplace, leaving a trail of soot behind him, and wiped his dirty hands off on his pants. “Anybody home? Hello?”

“Hari Anna is home!” Anne suddenly catapulted into the room, as though she had been waiting in the kitchen for his arrival. Matt hurried in after her, attaching himself to Harry’s waist.

“Hey there, losers.” Harry hugged them both as tightly as he could. “Miss me?”

“Go back to Hogwarts.” Sarah called out from where she was lying on the couch, head buried in a large book. “We don’t need you here.”

“My delicate heart is breaking. It’s absolutely shattered.” Harry said flatly, shaking his head.

“I heard bullying.” James yelled, from the kitchen. “Bullying is bad! Shut up and be nice to each other!”

“I don’t think anyone’s told Appa what hypocrisy means yet.” Sarah said, shaking her head. “At least you being here means Mum will be back soon. He’s insufferable without her.”

“Where’s Drew?” Harry asked, worried by the fact that his little brother hadn’t turned up yet. The last time Drew had been missing this long, they’d found him locked in the upstairs bathroom. To this day, no one had been able to prove conclusively that Sarah had done it, despite the fact that everyone knew she had. “Did you lock him in the bathroom again or something?”

“I never did that. He’s helping Appa in the kitchen because he told the worst joke ever over breakfast.” Sarah asked, finally shutting her book. “It’s so bad that I won’t even tell it again.”

Lily came through the floo, Hedwig held securely against her chest. “Honey, I’m home!”

“Mum, Appa’s holding Drew hostage.” Sarah ran over to her mother. “Over a knock knock joke.”

“As he should. Knock knock jokes are a travesty.” Lily said seriously.

“Same old, same old, looks like.” Harry grinned. “Nothing ever changes, around here. Not until I’m home, of course.”

“I can’t wait until it’s my turn to go to Hogwarts.” Sarah grumbled. “Then I won’t have to deal with you all the time.”

“Not true.” Harry said cheerfully. He only had another year of the castle to himself, and then Sarah would be there too. And the triplets would be joining them the year after that. Time seemed to be flying by-- he still thought of the triplets as three year olds, when he was speaking about them, but they’d be ten in less than six months. “I’ll follow you around everywhere, introduce you to all of my friends while ruining all of your friendships, tell all the teachers you’re my sister so they’ll hate you from the first day… I can’t wait!”

Sarah frowned, glaring at Harry. “That’s not fair. Mum!”

“Harry, stop being mean to your sister. Let her ruin her own life.” Lily advised, moving to set her son’s owl down.

Harry laughed, but Sarah just looked confused-- she wasn’t very good about figuring out when people were joking, which was a terrible trait to have in a family like hers.

“I’ll hang out with you at school, Harry. Pinkie promise.” Matt said seriously.

“And I’ll hang out with you the most. Don’t tell Drew, he’ll scream.” Harry ruffled Matt’s hair.

“I won’t! I’m too cool for Harry!” Anne said.

“I don’t know if you all actually enjoy each other’s company that much or if you’re just trying to get on my nerves.” Sarah said, looking quite confused. “Or both.”

“Oh, it’s both.” Harry said, shaking off Matt and Anne to catapult himself onto the couch, landing halfway on top of Sarah. “Get her!”

“Yeah!” Drew, who no one had seen for hours, ran into the room at the mention of launching an attack on Sarah, hands still wet from washing them. He threw himself on top of Harry, followed closely by Anne. Matt, who was never one to take part in these attacks as enthusiastically as the rest of his siblings, sat gently on his sister’s feet.

Sarah, to her credit, wasn’t screaming, but that was probably because she couldn’t.

“James, our children are killing each other.” Lily called into the kitchen.

“Let them.” James yelled back. “We’ve got to fire one of them by tomorrow anyway. Maybe we’ll get lucky and a few of them will take each other out!”

“Are you telling me to let our children fight to the death?” Lily frowned slightly.

“Not if I’m in trouble for it!” James said as he entered the living room, wiping his hands off on his pants. “Which one’s dying?” He noticed all the other kids piled on Sarah and groaned. “Kick them back, Sarah, we all know you can!”

“Fine, fine, let’s get off of her.” Harry nudged Drew with his foot. “Can’t kill her. That’s illegal.”

Drew clung to Harry’s back, refusing to let go. “You’re illegal!”

“We’ll have to do this the hard way, then.” Harry said, solemnly, and rolled them both off the couch. Harry, thankfully, shifted at the last moment to avoid landing entirely on top of Drew. “You okay there, Sarah?”

“Never better.” Sarah said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Never better.”

“You know how they always talk about parents having those ‘we made this’ moments?” James asked, nudging Lily’s shoulder with his elbow. “I haven’t had one of those for ten years now.”

“You’re a dirty liar, Appa!” Harry sat up, pointing at his father. “I’ve proof that you were proud of me as recently as last week!”

“Ten years.” James repeated, nodding. “Wow.”

“That’s a lot of years.” Lily nodded along.

“Are you proud of me?” Matt asked, blinking up at his parents.

“Always proud of you, kanna. Just not the rest of them.” James grinned, ruffling Matt’s hair. “No need to worry.”

“Blatant favoritism.” Sarah called out. “That’s unfair.”

“Have you seen Matt? I’m proud of him, and I’m just his brother.” Drew said as he continued trying to wriggle out from under Harry.

“I love Matt.” Harry spoke up. “If I could hide him in my trunk and take him to school with me, I probably would.”

“He’d suffocate and die and then you’d really be illegal.” Anne wrinkled her nose.

“People can’t be illegal!” Harry shook his head. “And I wouldn’t kill Matt and you know it!”

“Well, we’ll all be off to Hogwarts in two years, so that’ll be fun for everyone.” Sarah said, shaking her head. “We love suffering.”

“They’ll argue about anything.” James said, shaking his head. “Definitely ours.”

“Doesn’t it remind you of the good old days?” Lily laughed.

“The bad old days.” James shuddered. “I like my body parts where they are. Don’t know how that never occurred to me back then.”

“Are we going to get a story?” Sarah perked up slightly. “I want a story.”

“Tell the one where you beat up Appa. Please?” Harry whined. “Although, that is every single one.”

“Okay, I was terrible, but I was not that bad.” James frowned. “Lily, you tell them the truth.”

“He was terrible.” Lily nodded sagely. “And I kicked his butt.”

“Kick it again! Right now!” Anne demanded, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No.” Matt whispered, clinging to his father, who looked equally terrified at the prospect of him getting beaten up by his wife.

“Please don’t.” James looked to Lily, running a hand through his hair. “Please don’t.”

“You’re safe for now, Potter.” She grinned, standing on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. James chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek as well.

“Get a room!” Harry cried out, grabbing a pillow off the couch to throw at his parents. He hit James squarely in the face, knocking his father’s glasses just slightly out of place. James squinted for a few seconds, trying to figure out what was wrong, until Lily reached up and adjusted them for him. “Actually, don’t. The last time you did, we got saddled with these three. And Sarah’s entire life got ruined.”

“I don’t remember that.” Sarah piped up, frowning thoughtfully.

“See, she could have been a fun person, and you ruined her infancy with screaming babies.” Harry heaved a melodramatic sigh, shaking his head.

“I’m a fun person.” Sarah protested. “And they’ve hardly ruined my life, Harry. Get a grip.”

“If anything, we’ve made your life a million times better!” Anne said.

“Way cooler.” Drew agreed. “I mean look at us.”

“A million times might be pushing it a little.” Sarah said, with a shrug.

“You make my life a million times cooler.” Matt reached out to pat his sister’s knee.

“You’re a gift, Mattie.” Sarah sat up, reaching over to ruffle Matt’s hair.

“No,” he frowned, “I’m a human.”

“That too.” Sarah nodded sagely. “That too.”

“Can we just give Matt to Professor Sprout now? Because we all know that’s where he’s headed.” Harry said, laughing.

“I tried. Pomona says there’s no space, but I told her Matt’ll fit anywhere you put him.” James grinned. “Thank god one of you was an easy baby. We might have exploded otherwise.”

“Taking it easy is for losers.” Drew said from his spot on the floor. “The real fun’s working for it.”

“Well, we haven’t done too badly, judging by that.” James said, smiling at his children. “Maybe we’ll put off the firing a day.”

“Bhagavan is truly looking out for me.” Harry said, sounding more sincere than he had all day, and the entire Potter family started laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> Lai and I love hearing your feedback! Leave a comment, or send us asks on tumblr at [ yamibakuraofficial (Lai) ](http://yamibakuraofficial.tumblr.com) or [desiprongspotter (Sriram)](http://desiprongspotter.tumblr.com)!


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